


Silverfin

by ElDiablito_SF, Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Angst, Asshole Sharks, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon Kissing, F/F, Gay Sex, M/M, Mermaids, Merpeople, Pirates, Rimming, Sexual Content, Spanking, Suicide Attempt, Terrible Shark Poetry, Transformation, canon sexual slavery, extreme poodle vanity, mer-perspective kinkshaming, silver likes to watch, stalker mermaids, toes are gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-18 08:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 47,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7306927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silverfin is a MerSir and Prince of the Sea... until his unfortunate preoccupation with a certain handsome red-haired Pirate King leaves him a fish out of water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fathoms Below

_"I'll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue, and it's hey to the starboard, heave ho! Look out lad a mermaid be waiting for you in mysterious fathoms below."_ \- The Little Mermaid

~~~

Despite his name, Silverfin did not have a silver tail. His tail was still quite striking, if he did say so himself, a tawny gray with dark stripes much like the large carnivorous fish that lived in the reefs near what men called New Providence island. But it was certainly not silver, a fact which rather irked him at times and was the subject of many a raised eyebrow. Unfortunately, a name passed down from your father and his father before that was rather hard to shake.

What Silverfin _did_ have was an unfortunate preoccupation with pirates. Which was also rather hard to shake.

He wasn't the only one of the merfolk to seek out the presence of bipeds. But there was little satisfaction for him in playing games with fishermen or hanging around in great seaports. Not when there were grand sea battles to behold. Not when he could scale the side of a boarded prize and peek through the portholes at the epic battles that were waged aboard. He would hang there, his tail stroking the slippery, wet side of the hull, safe in the knowledge that beneath him was the sea, and the sea was his home.

That is, until the day he saw the Red Pirate King. That wasn’t his name (and, truth be told, Silverfin couldn’t be bothered with biped names), but rather what Silverfin had called him inside his mind, on account of his hair, the color that one sees in some coral reefs on the algae, or when it washes ashore to be dried by the sun, and lays there in beautiful, golden threads. It would have made magnificent merfolk hair. Not as beautiful as Silverfin’s, whose hair was long and lush and flowed all the way down to his scales and had been the envy of the seven seas, but then again, bipeds weren’t generally known to be very attractive. Their pink, knobby, scrawny lower limbs had none of the beauty and grace of a mer-fin. Not to mention the strange, flapping phallus that dangled between their legs like some grotesque barnacle.

Bipeds were grotesque, but part of Silverfin felt like the Red Pirate King must be a man apart. The clothes he covered himself with hugged the curves of his body like a second skin, and were of obviously higher quality than that of the men under his command. On deck, he exuded authority, his very presence shining like the sun. In battle he fought with unrestrained ferocity, cutting down foes with sure strokes of shining steel. And in private....

Ah, in private. Silverfin felt a rush of pleasure at thoughts of the nights he'd sat on the hull outside the king's cabin, peeking through the windows. Even with those strange “legs” he couldn't help but admire his body, the strength in his bare chest, also adorned with that shining, golden hair. The cloth that covered these strange “legs” made them look glorious, hugging the curves of his rump, pulling along his muscles as he moved across the cabin. Silverfin had spent hours watching the king alone, his attention focused on the strange paper and leather things called books, his face peaceful and handsome in its serenity.

But it was not always peaceful. At times, those lovely eyes that reminded Silverfin of the color of the shallows at sunset would grow dim, and a faraway look would settle over the Pirate King’s features, a profound melancholy the cause of which Silverfin could not plunder, for he would never dare reveal himself long enough to speak to the one who had so captured his imagination. And even if he had, what would he say? The reason that merfolk had been so successful over the years at stealing from those who stole, at sinking ships, and acquiring lost treasures was that their very existence was shrouded in myth. To reveal himself was to doom all merkind.

And so, Silverfin would swim away, away from the coast of Nassau, away from the hull of the _Walrus_ , down among the corals and the floating kelp, to his own kingdom where bipeds were fish food and Mami Wata reigned supreme.

~~~

It had been hopeless. If Flint was to be entirely honest with himself, which was in no way his forte, he’d have to admit that it had been a dream from the very beginning. From the moment he had set foot into that boat that took him and Miranda away from London, he had been dying a little bit more each day. Not in the way that is measured by time, with its bending sickle's compass etc., etc., but in a way that eats at you each day, like the waves eroding at the foundations as they batter it. So too James McGraw’s soul had been battered, thrown and smashed upon the rocks, and from its ashes had risen Captain Flint, a spectre, a shadow of a man.

At times he could push it aside, forget his pain in the savagery of the hunt, the bloodlust of battle. The things that gave Flint power. But he couldn't help but think in quiet moments, that it only made things worse. That each prize the men took under his command sent him deeper into Flint, and took away a little more of the man he had been. The man Thomas had loved.

What would Thomas think of him now?

 _Thomas_. 

He had abandoned him, had left him to his persecutors, to his death. Thomas had been a saint, but would even a saint have forgiven such a craven act of betrayal? 

Flint drained his cup and uncorked the bottle of rum on his desk. Rather than refilling it, he curled his fingers around the neck and lifted it to his lips, drinking deeply. Sobriety was too full of thoughts tonight for him to endure it. Instead he crossed the cabin and pushed open the great storm windows that lead to the sea, perching on the windowsill and looking out across the waves towards England. Towards the place where his heart still resided in brittle, crumbled shatters with whatever remained of the man he should have never allowed himself to love.

Nassau could not be saved. Not without means to do so. He could not bear it anymore, sinking lower and lower into Flint, it had become a guise he could not shake. He could not bear the way Miranda had looked at him. He could not bear his crew. A part of him could no longer even bear the sea. But that was the part that knew that the sea always claimed its due. One day, it would devour him.

“Fuck it.” Flint rose on unstable legs. The second bottle of rum had been empty - well, look at that! He did not remember finishing it. “Why delay the inevitable,” he said to no one in particular. The sky above, the sea below, as were allegedly God and the Devil, and he was perfectly happy to let them sort it out once he had chosen his resting place.

~~~

The moon was high overhead when Silverfin found the _Walrus_ , sailing peacefully under a gentle breeze. He'd come to recognize the shape of its keel over any other ship in the sea, and when its shadow cast along the sea floor he swam up eagerly. The very thought of catching a glimpse of his handsome red-haired Pirate King sent a thrill through to the very tips of his fins. Excitement and anticipation made him fast, speeding through the water and breaching the surface, arching above the waves and then diving beneath as he moved to catch up to the ship.

He slowed as he got closer - even in the dark of night he dared not risk being seen by the watch - and took stock. The king's cabin was brightly lit in the darkness, the great windows thrown wide. He could see the fine silhouette of the king's well-made body in the window, dark against the golden candlelight behind him.

Something was wrong, though. The strength had all but left the man's form. Once-proud shoulders slumped as if dragged down by the weight of a whale. His fingers were wrapped around the neck of a bottle instead of a sword, and, as Silverfin watched, they released it into the waves at the wake of the ship, swirling down into the undertow. It bobbed to the surface a few feet away from Silverfin, but he resisted the urge to swim after it. Ordinarily, the urge to taste the Pirate King's lips would be great, but tonight a sense of impending peril overtook him.

His senses were not incorrect. As he watched, his brave, fierce Pirate King lifted one of his lower limbs - "legs" - and placed it drunkenly but with full intention over the window ledge. He paused for a moment, holding onto the window frame and looking out over the sea, the moonlight throwing his handsome features into harsh relief. There was such a look of despair on his face that Silverfin felt his own heart break a little.

Then, calm and resolute, the Pirate King leaned forward and toppled from his ship, disappearing into the foaming churn of the sea.

 _A willing sacrifice_. Silverfin’s senses boiled. What a gift to the sea, what a prize for Mami Wata! The merfolk were used to such sacrifices, they treasured these gifts of biped flesh almost as much as they treasured gold. But no, not this. Silverfin wasn’t very generous of heart, and this prize he was not willing to share, not even with Mami Wata herself.

He dove through the waves to where he'd seen the pirate disappear, recalling all too well how weak and pathetic bipeds became once they were under the surface of the water. How long did he have before his handsome prize ceased to move, before his heart ceased to beat? The wake of the ship made the water turbulent, bubbles obscuring his vision for precious seconds.

Wait... there. A flash of white in the darkness. The pale cloth the pirate wore stuck to his skin as he sank through the water, and as Silverfin sped towards him he watched the man's lips part, giving up the last few bubbles of precious air. No. No, this would not do at all. Reaching the drowning man, he sealed his lips over his, pushing air out of his own lungs and into the pirate’s. New oxygen flooded in through his gills, but it wouldn't be enough to keep both of them alive - he'd have to take the pirate back to the surface, and risk discovery to keep him alive.

The boat was long gone by the time they surfaced, which posed another problem. Certainly he could not keep a biped in the sea with him (his weak, elastic skin was already beginning to resemble a wrinkly sea cucumber). Even if he had been able to deposit him back on his ship, could he trust the man not to simply jump overboard again?

Land for now, he decided. He pressed his lips to the corner of the unconscious pirate's mouth, just to make sure he was breathing on his own, of course. Then he wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, keeping him securely out of the water as he began to propel him towards safety with powerful kicks of his tail.

The weight in his arms felt heavy and limp. For so long Silverfin had wondered what it would be like to hold the Pirate King in his arms like that, to be able to inhale his scent, to taste his sun-beaten skin, and now that he had the man at his disposal, a wave of confusion overcame him and robbed him in his moment of triumph. 

He could not very well beach himself, like some inopportune whale, attempting to drag the biped back to shore, but merfolk had strong arms and wide shoulders, as you would expect when you spend all your life traversing the waters, and Silverfin could easily push the pirate up and onto the closest dock. Nassau slept, as bipeds did, preferring daytime to the nocturnal hours. There was no one around as Silverfin took a cautious lap under a boardwalk and pushed the Pirate King up and over on the other side, placing his dripping form onto the boards.

It wouldn’t hurt just to stay a few moments longer, if only to make sure his precious cargo was alive (if not well - Silverfin suspected there was something amiss with the man to have thrown himself to the waves in such a careless fashion). Did he breathe? Silverfin traced the contours of the man’s face with his fingers, lingering around the scratchy beard and the surprisingly soft lips. Yes, yes, there was air coming out of his mouth.

The man turned and coughed, sending Silverfin ducking under the boardwalk again, until he carefully crept back up to the surface, craning his head and coming face to face with the pirate, whose eyes had been opened. 

“Thomas,” the man muttered, his gaze unfocused, his voice hollow. It sounded the way that the ocean sounds inside a conch when you press it to your ear: so enticing, yet so far away.

"My Thomas," he sighed again. Undoubtedly one of the strange names that bipeds had, and undoubtedly someone who was very dear to his handsome pirate. A beautiful maid? A handsome man? Someone dear... and perhaps, from the despair at its uttering, someone who was no longer.

That, certainly, would be a reason to throw oneself into the sea.

“Forgive me, Thomas,” the pirate whispered, so close to Silverfin’s own lips that he could almost taste the sorrow on the man’s breath. “I failed you. I accomplished nothing. I _am_ nothing.”

Silverfin opened his mouth to protest. He and his brothers and sisters had always prided themselves on picking up the language of the local lands with their constantly shifting settlements, and Silverfin was better at tongues than most of his siblings. But to speak might reveal too much.

A cold hand clutched at his wrist. Along with the sorrow, Silverfin could also smell the telltale scent of rum on the pirate’s breath. There was a good chance he would not remember any of this come morning.

“You are far from nothing,” he whispered back. “You are so much and everything I desire.” 

The man’s eyes seemed to focus momentarily. There wasn’t much time, Silverfin had to act quickly. He had no illusions about what he was: he had always been a thief. He had stolen this prize from Mami Wata, and now, he was also going to steal a kiss. He brushed his lips along the Pirate King’s own, and before the drunken biped could fully come to his senses, dove back underneath the docks, and swam out to sea.

~~~


	2. Daughters of Triton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverfin has to make a sacrifice to keep his dream alive.

_"But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more."_  
\- Hans Christian Andersen

~~~

 

There were always secrets whispered in the house of whores. Secrets skillfully pried from the lips of men by way of the bottle, by the way that a smile and a bat of an eyelash could empty men's heads as effectively as they emptied their wallets. Max was queen of all of those.

But she needed no skill to learn of the morning that one of Nassau's most notorious pirate captains had mysteriously washed up on the docks, minus his entire ship.

She could imagine easily how such a thing may have happened. There was a time when she too had been an ondine, swimming merrily with her kin in the warm and soothing waters of the Caribbean. She'd seen many a sailor go overboard in her time, torn from the deck by wild storm winds to be lost in the raging sea. She could have brought them to land, if she'd wanted to. But the bipeds had never interested her. Not until....

Not until she'd heard an angel weeping on the shore of Nassau. Barely more than a child, and so unlike any biped that she'd ever laid eyes on that Max's heart had been stolen away immediately. She had never before wanted to be someone's port in the storm quite so much. 

Which was why it had been so inconceivable that her love and her sacrifice would be rewarded with such betrayal. And now, here she was. Stranded, a fish on land, bearing the curse of Mami Wata. _A slave you shall be, my daughter, until you are loved with a true love._ A love that is true? No, Max no longer believed in such fairy tales. They’d been trampled beneath Eleanor Guthrie’s treacherous, little feet. And her repugnant little toes. 

Well, all toes were repugnant. They were wiggly and stumpy, like fingers but somehow deformed. She did not know how it was that bipeds… _humans_ … could tolerate them being attached to their bodies. Some of them even fetishized them, the filthy perverts. Those were clients she did her best to stay well clear of.

She'd lived among humans far too long, been their slave for far too long. But she wasn't so removed from the ocean that she didn't recognize the mark of her own kind. And that... that was something she most certainly needed to do something about.

It was easy enough to steal away from the brothel in the early hours of the morning, when the only clients still in attendance were passed out drunk or curled around warm bodies. Easy enough to bundle up clean clothes and a sliver of soap, to make her way down to the sea with the pretense of bathing. There were coves, beyond the port of Nassau, where it was common enough; she left her clothes there, stripping the human threads from her body, and dove into the warm embrace of the water she had once called _home_.

Even without a tail she could still cut through the water with ease. The gills at the back of her neck, tucked away and hidden from human eyes, flared open in the cool seawater, filling her with life. For a moment she allowed herself to revel in memories, to believe that if she just stayed here that Mami Wata would allow her back her beautiful tail. Then she pushed away hope. She had work to do.

It was embarrassingly easy to find her brother, skulking around in the shallows under the docks.

“You’d better get a grip, Silverfin, you creeper!”

“Max!”

They had embraced warmly, her legs coming to tangle around his magnificent tail. Their long hair, with the similar texture and coils, mingled together in the salty water. When she had held him her fill, she pulled away and smacked her brother across his smug face. 

“Hey! What was that for?”

“For you being an idiot,” she replied, shaking her head. “What were you thinking dragging Flint’s body to shore and leaving him out there for Eleanor to find?”

“Who?”

“The biped? The pirate? The self-loathing ginger nightmare?”

“The Red Pirate King!” Silverfin exclaimed, flushing crimson and diving deep to hide his embarrassment. She floated on her back, waiting for him to resurface. “What did you say his name was?”

“Captain Flint,” she sneered. “And you, you are the imbecile du jour. Did you really think you could just leave him on the dock and no-one would ask questions? That no-one would wonder how the most notorious pirate captain magically appeared back in Nassau, alone, while his boat is off hunting a prize?”

"Is he really?"

"What?"

"The most notorious captain in Nassau?"

Max sighed. Her brother's fervor was embarrassing, but all too familiar. The look in his eyes, the way he fell all over himself just speaking of Flint. It was the cause of all the mistakes she'd made in her life.

"Listen to me, little brother," she said, with as much sternness as she could muster. "Whatever it is that you think you feel, you don't. Getting involved with bipeds will cause you nothing but pain. So leave this place. Go back to the sea, forget about the man you saved, and never come back here again."

~~~

 _Never come back here again._ That’s what Max had said, and Max would know. When years ago she had given up her tail for a pair of “legs”, Silverfin himself had mourned his sister for dead. It was that way with the ondines: if they left their marine home for love, and their lovers betrayed them, the consequences were always dire.

But the rules would not apply to _him_. First of all, he reckoned, he wasn’t some sighing, weeping mermaid. He was a MerSir, a prince of the sea. Second, he had been Mami Wata’s favorite for some time. And third, and most importantly, no one was going to pull one over on him, for he was the wiliest fish in the big, wide ocean.

And he wanted Flint. ( _Flint_. What a funny name. All biped names were funny.) He wanted him and the only way he could be with him was if he did what Max had done. He needed to strike a bargain with Mami Wata for a pair of those “legs”. 

But would Flint want him? The fact that the handsome pirate had tried to commit himself to a watery grave still weighed heavily on Silverfin's mind. It tied him to Nassau; every moment that he was away was plagued with visions of that beautiful body slipping beneath the waves.

“He will not care about your love,” Max had told him. “All he cares about is gold. I hear him and Eleanor talking about it when they don’t think I’m listening. An independent Nassau. And they need money to secure this independence, and lots of it.”

Silverfin regarded his grotto, the glittering treasures he'd stolen away from the human world. Would that be enough, to buy Flint's love? He knew more of the bipeds than most of his kind, enough to know that many of the things that merfolk treasured would not hold as much value to the land-dwellers. His small collection of pearls, perhaps. The gold coins scavenged from the wrecks of ships. But the other things - the pottery, the trinkets that decorated his home... those were plentiful, up above. He'd need more.

_Like an entire ship full of treasure._

A ray of sunshine hit the waters and reflected back into the azure of Silverfin’s eyes. The placid waters unfolded before his gaze in a shimmering array of gold.

Yes! That was it! How foolish of him not to think of it sooner! An entire galleon, laden with gold: it wasn’t a thing of imagination. It traversed these waters fairly regularly, and Silverfin knew the route. It was the _Urca de Lima_ , and many was the time that he and his kin had discussed sinking it for the greater glory of Mami Wata.

All that gold, so much treasure to fill out the oceanic coffers. His mer-kin wanted that gold. But his Pirate King - Captain Flint - he _needed_ it. That gold could be the only thing that might yet keep him from the watery abyss. 

But how could Silverfin give it to him?

The pirates could take the ship, of course. If they knew where to find it and where it would be vulnerable. If they had enough men and enough guns. That would, of course, mean sharing the gold, but surely Flint would get first pick and the lion’s share. Surely they could spirit away that which was most choice. And Flint would be so grateful to him that they would rule Nassau together....

No, it wasn’t going to be for him the way it had been for Max. He had to try to get on land. He would get Flint to trust him, and then he would lead him to the _Urca_. And then, Silverfin would really make a king out of his red-haired captain.

The only question was, what would Mami Wata ask of him in exchange for a pair of “legs”?

~~~

“Not my hair!”

Silverfin clutched at his flowing locks protectively, trying to wrap them around his body like an undulating sea-cape.

Mami Wata’s gaze had been steady and cold. Her twin tails made calculated circles in the sand beneath her feet as she perched upon her throne of giant clams. Mami Wata could give herself legs at will. It was how she mated with her chosen bipeds, to whom she bestowed fortune and wealth in exchange for their undying fidelity. And woe betide a man who crossed her!

“That’s… that’s not fair!” Silverfin protested weakly. “You fuck bipeds whenever you like! Why do I have to give up my beautiful hair?”

“Your sister came to me, too,” Mami Wata hissed, her black eyes glowing like pearls in moonlight. “Full of hubris, full of _love_ ,” she spat out like the word burned her lips. “There is a price to pay if you want to leave our home, Silverfin. If you are not ready to pay the price, then you do not know what it is to love.”

His heart trepidated inside his chest. Mami’s words had stung him to the core. Of course he did not know what it was to love. He had only wanted to be close to the captivating pirate, to touch him with gentle hands, to see what made him tick. Like one of the many trinkets he had hoarded in his grotto, so would Flint be another jewel to hang upon his life.

And that was not the MerSir he wanted to be.

“If I do this,” he began, “if I let you take my hair, how do I know I won’t become trapped up above and unable to come back here, like Max?”

“It will grow back, you silly little fish,” Mami laughed. Her teeth too shone like pearls. Her breasts heaved, weighed down with jewels of the sea and their own pendulous heft. It must have been easy for her to lure her lovers into her web, Silverfin thought with a sigh. What would he have, once she takes his hair? “And once it grows back, you will be free to return to the sea, regardless of how things shake out with your pirate.”

“But,” he sank defeated to the sand, “my hair is my best feature!”

The Mami laughed again, her twin tails beating with glee against the sand.

“Oh, my darling boy! How little you know of the world of the bipeds! Now go, and think about the deal that I offered you. If by sunrise tomorrow I do not receive a gift of your hair, I will know your answer.”

~~~

For the rest of the day and all of the night Silverfin swam restless loops around his grotto. Occasionally he would stop in front of his prized possession and sigh. The grand, gilt-framed mirror had been the envy of many a Mer when he had taken it intact from the wreck of a grand passenger ship, and in its reflection he could see how his beautiful hair swirled around him.

He gathered it up in his hands, pushing it back from his face and flat against his skull. How ugly he would look without it! With nothing but bare pink skin on his head, baking in the heat of the sun! How repulsive! How could bipeds choose to shear their hair in such a way!

Perhaps a hat would soften the blow? He hunted through his grotto, opening a trunk to find what had once been a proud, three-sided hat of a ship's officer. It had grown soggy under the sea, but it would do. He pulled his hair back and settled it on his head, trying to imagine what it would look like above the waves. Perhaps he could almost look respectable. At least until his hair grew back.

Then, as he admired his reflection and the swirling clouds of his hair, an idea came. There was _so much_ of his beautiful hair... how would Mami Wata know if he left a small amount still attached?

He gathered his hair up in his hands again, closing his fists around his tresses at the level of his chin and admiring his reflection again. Still quite respectable, he decided. Still beautiful enough for Flint to love.

With his mind made up, Silverfin swam out of his grotto. Cutting his own beautiful hair was out of the question, of course. He could never bear to take a blade to his pride and joy. Thankfully it didn't take long to find what he was looking for.

"Lord Scarletclaw. I require your attendance."

After a moment's pause, the great red sea crab scuttled out from under his rock.

“Does my Prince require my services?” There was always a note of sarcasm in the crab's voice, today even more so. Silverfin let it slide, though the crab really ought to feel blessed to be asked to aid him. It was an honor and a privilege to be selected to serve someone of Silverfin’s rank and stature.

"I do," Silverfin replied. "I need you to shear off my hair, and take it to Mami Wata. Just here, and no shorter. And - this is very important - when she asks, you must tell her that's _all_ of it. Every hair of my delectable head."

The crustacean attendant gave Silverfin the stinkeye, he was pretty sure. Not that crab eyes were particularly expressive, but they sure could roll!

“Is that a ‘Yes, sir, I understand, sir’ that you mean to say, Scarletclaw?”

“If I may be so impertinent, sir, but _why_?”

“I’m getting ‘legs’, Scarletclaw,” Silverfin beamed with satisfaction.

“Oh dear,” the crab muttered. That is, thought loud enough for Silverfin to still hear. “You’ll also need to change your name, you know. Something suitably biped.”

“Thanks for the unsolicited advice, you big-mouthed hard-head!” Silverfin sneered. “Now are you going to cut my hair off before I change my mind, or what?”

“Just to below your gills, sir.”

“Excellent, Scarletclaw,” Silverfin tapped the top of his attendant’s crimson shell. And then he closed his eyes, just in case, and thought of the magnificent pirate in Nassau, who needed him to come to his rescue one more time.

He may not know much of love, but he was willing to give it a solid go.

With his locks shorn and the crab on his way to Mami Wata with his precious cargo, Silverfin hurried back to his grotto, faintly vibrating with excitement. He didn't have much time, and he wanted to be certain he had everything he needed. The small collection of pearls and coins were first, carefully tied up in a leather pouch that wasn't too water-damaged. Then he ruffled through his trunks of biped-trinkets. A few of the pieces of cloth were from recent wrecks. They would complete his biped disguise. A fine blue coat with silver buttons and a white shirt - yes, that would do the trick. He nearly forgot trousers - but the pesky things would be necessary, to cover his horrid, knobby knees and dangly bits. And boots. He would need those to cover up those disgusting toe things that Max kept going on about.

With the shirt and coat on his body and the trousers over one arm, he admired himself in the mirror again. The remains of his hair floated around his face, briefly obscuring his vision. The damn crab had cut it shorter than he'd wanted, he remarked with a frown, but it would do. Flint would have no choice but to love him - especially after he brought him news of the treasure ship.

~~~


	3. Part of Your World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverfin gets his wish. Sorta.

_“What makes a treasure a treasure is how rare a find it is, when you need it the most.”_ ― Jodi Picoult

~~~

Flint wasn’t sure whether he felt relieved or embarrassed to find Eleanor Guthrie standing over him, hands on her hips, strands of blond hair that had escaped her upswept due flowing in the morning breeze.

“How does a man lose his entire ship and crew, Captain?”

He was still wet and probably delirious. What the hell did he drink last night? Had his rum been spiked by some bruja’s secret brew? Everything was illuminated with crystalline clarity: the water, his path, his end. But then - here he was. Decidedly not dead. And aside from that, what _dreams_ he’d had.

Fantastical, phantasmagoric.

No, no, he was very drunk the night before. He must have fallen asleep and stumbled out onto the docks. He must have missed the disembarking of the _Walrus_. It was the only possible explanation.

“Miss Guthrie,” he muttered, his mouth salty and dry, as if he had tried to drink the ocean. He picked himself up, crawling in a very undignified fashion onto all fours, only to proceed retching into the water from the dock.

“We can’t let anyone see you in this state.” Eleanor’s hands around his shoulders, pressed against his clammy forehead. This was unbearable. He did not deserve her pity. “Let’s get you inside, Captain.”

Her body shielded him. From what, he was not sure. Why wasn’t he dead? And now, he was being rescued by a woman. Unbearable.

“Where is Gates?” he finally managed.

“Aboard your ship, I would imagine.”

She had ushered him past the brothel and into the back door of her tavern. One of the whores was leaning against the balustrade. Flint had recognized her - Eleanor’s personal whore. Lux or Lax? Max. Whores talked. Now everyone would know.

“I need to…” The truth was, he had no idea what he needed.

“Sleep it off, Flint.” Eleanor’s voice had been soft and kind.

“What will they say?” he uttered, eyes widening in horror.

“Fuck _them_.”

For the time being, this seemed like the most reasonable of plans.

~~~

Despite all of her advice and admonitions, Max wasn't entirely surprised to see her brother striding up the streets of Nassau, the early morning sun bright on his drenched hair and clothing. He gave her a wide grin as he caught her eye, motioning towards his trouser-clad legs. He'd taken to them far more quickly than she, she couldn't help but notice with a frown. Idiot.

"This thing between my legs is terrible," he leaned in to whisper as he reached her.

“Well, the thing between your ears is shit, too!” she snapped with a sweeping eye-roll.

“Now, Maxilla! Is this any way to greet your brother, who has given up so much to be reunited with you?” He twirled. “Is it awful? Be honest!”

The long, flowing locks that had for so long been Silverfin's pride and joy were cut short to his jaw, and just beginning to curl and frizz in the heat of the sun as they dried. A good thing; he never could have passed as human with such a head of hair. "Is that what she asked of you, then? Your vanity? You clearly haven't given that up."

"I'm hurt. I'm a mere shade of my former, glorious self." Silverfin pouted as he touched his hair, frowning at the curly texture.

“You look like a poodle,” she taunted. “A sea poodle!”

“What is a poodle, pray tell?”

“It’s a little dog that highfalutin ladies carry in their laps and run their fingers through their curls. The dog’s curls, that is. It is a very curly dog.”

“And what is a dog?” Silverfin wrinkled his nose. It didn’t sound very dignified.

“Like a land dolphin.”

“Oh,” Silverfin pondered this. “I’m fine with being compared to a land dolphin.”

“Shit for brains,” Max muttered and waved him to follow her indoors.

Smugly, she noted that taking stairs required more balance than her ridiculous MerSir sibling was possessed of. Although perhaps it would have been easier had he not been gawking at everything like a literal fish out of water.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch a fly,” she tapped his chin with her finger.

“What exactly do you do here?” Silverfin asked, examining Max’s spartan possessions with a look of rabid enthusiasm.

“Oh mon dieu,” Max sighed and allowed her body to sink into the armchair. The entire room reeked of human coital fluids, not that her brother would know the smell of it. “I get fucked for coin,” she explained with the patience of a saint. “What do you think Mami Wata gave you your third leg for?”

“To empty my bladder, I assume,” Silverfin shrugged. “I can’t very well go around excreting through my gills whilst among land-dwellers, can I?”

For a long moment Max stared at her brother. As much as she thought she ought to set him straight, if he'd managed to avoid all knowledge of the birds and the bees up until this point she wasn't particularly keen on being the one that had to rectify that. "You'll understand soon enough."

"Right." Silverfin rubbed his hands together. "Where do I find him, then?"

"What?"

"My beautiful golden Pirate. I'm here, he's here. What else is there to it?"

"You really think you can just go waltzing into his bed, don't you?"

"Well I don't see why not. I still have enough of my hair to be attractive."

Max's lips pursed in annoyance as she stepped closer to him. "Listen, little brother. I told you to stay away from here for a reason. Men don't _do_ that here. Not openly, not with other men. If you go throwing yourself at him you're just going to get yourself a black eye - or worse."

"Well, that seems silly." Silver perched on the edge of the bed. Max decided not to tell him what exactly he was sitting on. "Why in the sea would that matter?"

"There are some things that even I don't understand. But in any case, if you wish to earn his affections you must do it in a way that is subtle. You must first become close to him in some other way. And this I cannot help you with."

Silverfin nodded as she spoke, in a way that meant his mind was already miles ahead, galloping along towards his goals with reckless abandon. "Help me find him, then. I'll take it from there. I've got it all figured out, you see."

"Do you?"

"Of course." He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "And when I get what I want I'll bring you back so much coin that you won't need to - whatever this is - for it."

"Far be it for me to get in your way. Come on. We'll see if he's awake yet."

Silverfin stood, then stopped. "Max. What's a Thomas?"

"Who?"

"A who, then. Man or a Woman?"

"Man. I don't recommend you ask these kinds of questions in front of the land-dwellers."

"Right," Silverfin replied, and perhaps it was Max's imagination, but he seemed to look even more smug than he had before as he followed her out of the room.

~~~

Cockbiting _hell_. How long had he been out? Why had Eleanor allowed him to linger here, in these sweat-soaked sheets? His muscles felt atrophied with lack of use and his stomach gnawed at his entrails, attempting to devour him from within. Jesus Christ. He was a fucking mess.

It must have been days, then. Flint thought he had heard voices through his restless dreams. A woman - not Eleanor - and a man, whispering softly over him.

“He’s just right there! Let me hold him, Max!”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Just one cuddle?”

“No!”

No. No, he must have hallucinated that as well. Just like he hallucinated the sea creature with a fishtail and eyes of an angel. What had his hallucination said to him then? Ah yes. _You are so much and everything I desire._ Flint snorted and hit his head against the wooden headboard. His subconscious was the most pathetic place in the world.

He was going to have words with Eleanor for pampering him like this. It was bad enough to suffer such indignities at the hands of Miranda, but Eleanor was supposed to be his partner. Flint cursed his rum, his stomach, himself, and everything around him as he stumbled downstairs to locate some food. After all, Eleanor Guthrie didn’t run a fucking tavern for nothing.

He sat in a dark corner, projecting the aura of a man who was not to be fucked with, in a way that came all too naturally to him, when the mistress of the establishment plopped into the chair across from him.

“Welcome back,” Eleanor said, pushing a cup his way. “It’s water.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Flint snarked and gulped down the life-giving beverage with eager, parched lips.

“So, your crew is back.”

“Fuck.”

“They thought you’d drowned yourself,” Eleanor continued with the air of utter nonchalance. “They said they found your cabin empty and the storm windows opened.”

“Fucking…”

“Empty bottles of rum on the floor. No signs of a struggle.”

“Fucking fuck!”

“If it wasn’t for that lunatic in the courtyard, I wouldn’t have known how to explain it away myself!” she sighed. Flint’s eyebrow shot up towards his hairline. “Some clown,” she waved in the direction of her door, “started spinning tales of ghouls aboard ships that take on the shape of the captain and how they haunt the sailors and trick them into leaving their captains behind to lure them into a den of killer mermaids. You should have heard him!” Eleanor laughed, her hand pressed to her heart. “Oh god, Flint! He… he’s… ahahahhahah... He’s got your whole crew so riled up that you’ll have them eating out of your hand for a week, at least!”

“And they… believed him?” Flint’s brain hurt.

“He’s a heck of a storyteller,” Eleanor shrugged. “The point is, whether or not they believe a ghost stole your form is irrelevant. They believe they abandoned you at port and they’re deeply ashamed.”

“Good,” Flint cleared his throat. “Well, that’s exactly what happened, wasn’t it?”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Eleanor rose with a smile and placed a warm hand on Flint’s shoulder. “You should thank the kid, when you get a chance.”

“What’s his name?”

“Something Silver?” Eleanor’s hand gestured into the air as if attempting to snatch a memory back from it. “Oh, there he is now! Mr. Silver, is it?”

“What are you doing?” Flint hissed, in no mood to deal with any clown, including this one, who was apparently so full of lies that they fell from his lips like…

“Captain Flint!”

...Like… Flint swallowed. “And you are?”

“Um… Mister Silver?”

He was a very attractive clown. Flint hadn’t expected that. And something about the color of his eyes that was just one shade too blue to have been real.

“Mister… Silver..,” Flint drawled out. “Does your mother call you Mister Silver?”

“No, my mother calls me…” The peculiar specimen cast his eyes about the tavern as if looking for something. “John. John Silver. That’s it.”

“Uh huh,” Flint frowned. There was decidedly something off about this kid. “Have a seat, Mr. Silver,” Flint pointed to the chair across from him. _And stop staring at me like that, good lord._ “I understand I owe you a debt. I hate to be in anyone’s debt, so perhaps you could come to the point and tell me exactly why you interfered in the matters of my crew this morning?”

For a few moments, the oddling in front of Flint remained perfectly still, his eyes appraising the captain with such scrutiny that it made him shift in his seat. He could, of course, avail himself of the opportunity to stare back, which he did, a barely perceptible smile hidden in the corner of his mouth.

He was handsome. There was something soft and delicate about his features, otherworldly even, and none more so than those azure depths of his eyes. At the same time, he also looked roguish. And tan. So evenly tan, from what little Flint could see, that it was almost as if he’d never worn a shirt a day in his life (except that he was obviously wearing one at that moment). _Stop imagining him shirtless, Jesus Fucking Christ!_

At some point, in between staring at the kid’s collarbones and his mouth, Flint realized that Silver’s lips had been moving.

“... So the _Urca_ would be undefended and you and your men would easily…”

“Wait. What?”

“The _Urca de Lima_? The Spanish treasure ga-” Flint had placed his hand over Silver’s mouth and dragged him bodily into one of Eleanor’s storage rooms.

“You _shit_!”

“Excuse you!” Silver propped himself up against Flint’s chest and his hand remained there until Flint moved the hell away from him. “What type of ingratitude is this? I bring you news of untold treasures. I’m telling you that I can give you the route to intercept the ship that carries it. And you call me excrement!”

“Did it ever occur to you, even for a bloody moment, that this is not something to be discussed in the middle of a tavern full of _pirates_?”

“But _you’re_ a pirate.” Silver poked Flint’s chest and Flint’s eyes moved slowly from his extended index finger back to his face. For a moment, he contemplated breaking the kid’s finger, if only to make a point.

“All right,” Flint narrowed his eyes. “Go on then. Tell me the route and the schedule.”

“No. Nope. No way. Nah-uh.”

Flint sighed and slowly took his knife from his belt. He didn’t have time for this shit.

“Oh, holy shit! Are you going to fillet me?” Silver squealed and pressed his back against the storage room wall. “Max was right. This place is not how I imagined it would be!”

“Shut _up_ , you imbecile!” Flint’s knife pressed against the kid’s windpipe. His eyes dropped to Silver’s mouth again, as the kid licked his suddenly parched lips. It would be a shame to waste him, Flint sighed inwardly, especially if he really did know the route of the _Urca de Lima_. Could this week get any more strange?

“Don’t kill me,” Silver whispered, swallowing against the blade. “There are many ways I can be of use to you.”

“Yeah? Well, we’ll see about that,” Flint replied and knocked the kid out with the hilt of his blade.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's what we got a head start on over the weekend! We'll try to get the next chapter out to you as soon we can but it won't be as soon as the first 3 chapters. <3


	4. Part of Your World (Reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverfin begins to learn important lessons about humanity.

_"It isn't the song of the siren that tortures men, that's where your theory goes sadly wrong."_ \- Andrew Lloyd-Webber, _Aspects of Love_

 

_~~~_

 

When Silverfin… Silver - he needed to start thinking of himself as Silver - came to, it was to find himself very uncivilly shackled to a piece of biped furniture in what appeared to be someone’s residence. He could not be sure, having never been in a biped’s lair before. He could tell that they were still on land, and therefore the pirate had not dragged him back to the _Walrus_. As for the pirate himself, he was nowhere to be found.

“That isn’t very sporting,” Silver muttered and decided to use this alone time to get better acquainted with his new “legs.”

He pulled his knees in, one a time, until they made undulating hills for him to marvel at. Then he straightened them out, then splayed them open, then wider and wider until it made something else in between his legs pull painfully and caused him to slam them back shut.

“Yowza!” he squealed and shoved his unfettered hand down his breeches to see what had felt so uncomfortably yanked during his experimental acrobatics. There was his third leg, as Max called it, lying like a dormant snake against his thigh, and below it something else that lay heavy and pendulous in the palm of his hand. He gently rolled the wrinkly, round objects in his fingers, and discovered the sensation not at all unpleasant. “Huh!” he pronounced.

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes,” Flint’s voice announced his arrival, followed by the slamming of door. “Can’t leave you in here for ten bloody minutes without finding you doing something vile.”

“Vile? What am I doing?” Silver pulled his hand out of his breeches and gave Flint what he hoped was a friendly wave. Did his Pirate King have a pair of those bouncy things in between his own legs? He had to wonder if they would have the same beautiful freckles as Flint’s nose.

“That’s between you and your god, I’m sure,” the pirate frowned, leaning against a heavy desk. “Now, you and I are going to have a little talk, if you don’t mind.”

“Where am I?” Silver asked, still studying his strange surroundings.

“You don’t understand. I am the one who’s going to be asking _you_ questions. And then,” Flint pushed himself off the desk and leaned over Silver’s crouched form, “if I don’t like your answers, I am going to kill you and feed you to the fishes.”

“You know, most fish would rather eat plankton. Well except sharks, because sharks are assholes. But it’s really the bottom dwellers who eat carcasses. Then again, they’d eat mostly anything…”

“Shut up!”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Flint shook his head with an air of exasperation.

“Where the hell did you come from?” the pirate growled at him.

“Tortuga?”

“You don’t sound certain. Come to think of it, you don’t sound French.”

“I could sound more French if that would please you? Voulez-vous?”

The way Flint was looking at him was not what Silver had anticipated when he thought he was at his most giving and charming.

“Fine,” the pirate finally dismissed whatever thoughts he had been having. “How do you know about the _Urca_?”

This was becoming more difficult. Silver figured he had thought of everything, but he had certainly not planned for this interrogation. He couldn’t very well tell the Pirate King that all merfolk knew about the Spanish galleons without betraying his kin. Then he’d have to worry about two people trying to kill him: Flint _and_ Max. Not to mention, the giant tide that Mami Wata would likely have to send to drown all of Nassau to keep their secret.

“A man had a schedule.”

“What man? Where’s the schedule?”

So many questions! Good gods! It was exhausting having to think up so many elaborate lies on the spot.

“He was a cook on a ship. He had stolen a schedule from his captain and I stole it from him.”

“Let me have it,” Flint demanded again.

“I… can’t…” It looked like the pirate was rearing up to hit him again. That wasn’t the physical contact Silver had wanted when he had bartered his beautiful hair for a pair of dangly bits and legs. “It’s in my head!” he exclaimed in growing desperation. “I had to destroy it, so I memorized it! If you keep hitting me, it might just shake right out of my brain, and then where will you be? Without treasure, that’s where.”

“You ass,” Flint groused and slammed his fist against the table.

At that moment, the door slid open again, and a strangely familiar face slipped into the room.

“Does he have it?” the new arrival asked.

Silver had recognized her when she spoke. It was her - Eleanor Guthrie - the reason his sister had abandoned her kin and came to live here, the reason she had become a slave to humans who had no idea of her true worth or what she had given up to be among them. Silver caught himself scowling openly at the Queen of Pirates.

“He says it’s in his head,” Flint shared quietly.

So, Silver thought, he could be civil and gentle when he wanted to be. Just apparently not with _him_. It did not make any sense. Surely, he was more beautiful than Eleanor Guthrie with her long golden hair all unattractively pinned up to her head. Even without his magnificent sacrificed mane.

“I think there’s something…” Flint made an odd gesture with his finger by his temple. “... wrong with him. He might be a bit like Randall.”

“Not all there?” Eleanor whispered back. “I told you he was a lunatic, but that doesn’t mean he’s a liar.”

“Do you two mind? I’m right here. It isn’t right to talk about a man as if he wasn’t there, when I am very much there, _all_ there even. And who’s this Randall?” Was he also a MerSir?

“We could torture him,” Eleanor suggested too casually for Silver’s liking.

“You know as well as I do how unreliable information extracted in such a way could be,” Flint responded and a spark of hope burst to life in Silver’s chest.

“I beseech you, Captain Flint,” Silver spoke with ardent sincerity, “if you take me with you on the _Walrus_ , I will lead you to the treasure galleon. I won’t let you down for I’m just as interested in finding that gold as you are. And I am very familiar with the winds and currents in the area. Who knows? I might be more valuable to you than you think, if you just give me a chance!”

Flint and the Guthrie woman exchanged a look. She shrugged. Her hand brushed over Flint’s shoulder in a way that was overly familiar and it sent a jolt of jealousy igniting in the pit of Silver’s belly. Or was it hunger? He probably was quite hungry, come to think of it.

“I’ll try you out for a week,” Flint finally spoke and Silver felt his own eyes light up with excitement. “We’ll see how you get on with my crew. But at the end of the week, if I don’t like you, or they don’t like you, or Betsy the cat doesn’t like you - you walk the plank.”

“What about the _Urca_?”

“I’ll survive without it,” Flint replied with a deepening frown.

 _Liar_ , Silver thought, bitterly.

~~~

The crew of the _Walrus_ hated him briefly, then loved him. Bipeds - men, Silver corrected himself - it turned out, loved reasons to ridicule their own kind, and all his time spent watching the crew through the portholes of the ship gave him plenty of fodder to amuse them. He wasn't particularly certain why one would want to shove one's third leg up the anus of a goat, but there it was. Who was he to hold back such a truth?

Betsy the land-crab was turning out to be a much more difficult creature to access the heart and mind of, much to Silver’s chagrin. Speaking to her didn't seem to elicit a response, and bribing her with scraps of food did not seem to endear her to Silver either. Were land creatures simply stupider than those in the ocean? That would, he mused, explain the majority of the crew. Now that he was among them, it was painfully obvious from the odor that for men who spent most of their time on the sea they spent very little time _in_ it.

There were a few exceptions, of course. Flint's right-hand man, a barnacled old sailor named Gates who eyed Silver like he expected him to make off with the ship, was at least well groomed and clean. As was that lovely piece of man flesh, Billy, with his arms worthy of a MerSir. He didn't seem to trust Silver any more than Gates, which rather annoyed him. How could they think so lowly of him when he was offering them treasure beyond their wildest dreams?

"I don't see why I have to be the one to peel every potato for the dinner pot," he complained to Flint that night, pushing his way into the cabin at the rear of the ship. "Do you know how unfair it is being stuck in that dim hovel of a hold all day?"

Flint's lips twitched into what might have almost been a smile. Despite how annoyed he was at how menial the day had been, Silver's heart skipped a beat. "That hovel of a hold you're talking about is my ship."

"Perhaps not quite a hovel," Silver quickly tried to backtrack. "But when one is used to feeling a fresh sea breeze on one's face...."

This time Flint actually smiled, a wry quirk of one of the sides of his mouth. He seemed to be in a much better mood out on the open ocean, Silver couldn't help but think. "We all must do our part on this ship, Mr. Silver. And we all must eat."

Silver wasn't quite convinced that the swill he'd eaten that night could be rightly called food. The hard rocks he'd spent the day skinning had been boiled until they were little more than flavorless mush. But he forced himself to hold his tongue. "Surely there's some place else I could be of use. I could climb those rope things. Pull up the - " he thought quickly. "Sails. Right? It can't be that hard."

"Mr. Silver, I do not know where you come from, but it must have been a very landlocked place indeed.” The captain twirled a large feather in his hand that Silver had come to recognize as a writing implement. Merfolk had much better tools for that, he thought with some complacency. Then again, merfolk culture was obviously much more advanced than these humans. “You told me, when you begged for your life, that you had many skills. So far, other than your gift of gab, I fail to see any of these finer qualities.”

“Rude!”

“I’m merely being honest.”

There was much Silver wanted to tell the captain. He could tell which way the wind was blowing, for one thing, without the need for any weathervane. He knew the tides by smell alone. He could tell you if a storm was coming hours in advance and exactly from which direction. He could name three hundred and twenty-eight species of marine life that bipeds knew about and another thousand more that they had never heard of or imagined before. But none of these were things he could very well share with Flint.

“I give excellent backrubs,” he offered in a state of growing panic.

“What?” Flint appeared to teeter somewhere between amusement and horror.

“Well, I don’t have to rub your whole back, if you don’t want. I can just do the shoulders. It’s very relaxing. If there’s one thing you need to do more is _relax_. I mean, with all due respect, Captain, but you’re very tense.”

“Get out.”

“Suit yourself. But I have excellent hands and they’re not just for peeling potatoes!”

In a huff, Silver turned towards the door, but before his hand landed upon the knob, he heard Flint’s gruff and gravelly voice again. “Wait.”

Silver looked hopefully towards Flint. Could this be it? Would he finally be allowed the secret pleasure of touching him? If only his shoulders - those magnificent, broad shoulders, peppered with beautiful freckles that looked like bursts of stars….

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll have you summarily keelhauled.”

…Why did Flint always have to ruin his fantasies?

Frowning, Silver tried to push the thought of being keelhauled away. He'd just left the deep; he wasn't particularly keen on going back quite so soon. Instead he crossed the room to where Flint sat behind his desk. His beautiful Red King of Pirates stripped down to his shirt sleeves and soon Silver had his hands on those lovely broad shoulders that he'd gazed at so many times.

Flint felt warm, through the thin cotton of his shirtsleeves. Warm like the fire of his hair. And tense like he'd swum a thousand leagues. Silver got his fingers around the shoulder, tips pressed into the clavicles, and his thumbs dug into two particularly hard knots on either side of the vertebrae.

As he did so, a low, grunted groan escaped Flint's lips. It was, Silver decided, distinctly pleasing. Unrestrained. He repeated the movement with his thumbs, pressing them in small circles into the taut flesh, and was rewarded with a sound all too close to a whimper.

“Right there?” he asked, attempting to keep the self-satisfaction out of his voice. Flint gave a noncommittal grunt in reply. “This would be much easier if you took off your shirt,” Silver suggested, smoothing his hands down the captain’s broad shoulders.

While he hadn't made the suggestion in any seriousness, he was pleasantly surprised when Flint took hold of the bottom of the fabric, drawing it up over his head without a word. If he'd thought the feel of Flint's shoulders was lovely, the sight of them was exquisite - firm and well-defined, sun-warmed skin covered in a heavy sprinkle of freckles. Silver wanted to press his lips to them, wanted to taste them, wanted to draw lines between them with his tongue, he wanted -

Between his legs, the mysterious third one gave a sudden uncomfortable, tingling jerk. Silver stared down at his crotch, uneasy and slightly disturbed. His third leg was undeniably swelling.

Too late he realized that this firmness, this twitchy discomfort must have to do with the _other_ use for it that Max had alluded to. Possibly the same kind of insanity that might lead an unrefined pirate to stick this _dick_ in the rear end of some poor dairy goat.

"Not now," he hissed at it.

Under his hands, Flint tensed. "What?"

“I seem to be experiencing some kind of inflammation,” Silver stuttered.

“Inflammation?” Flint’s head spun about, twisting the skin of his neck under Silver’s hands. His _neck_ , oh dear, the inflammation was becoming rather painful and uncomfortable. “From what?”

“I… huh!”

“Cat got your tongue, for once?”

“No, sir. Betsy most certainly does not have my tongue. Nor my.....”

Eyebrows furrowing, Flint stood, catching up his discarded shirt and jacket as he did. He looked Silver up and down as he took a step back. "Pull yourself together," he said rather quickly, then spun on his heel and strode from the room.

Silver watched him go, frowning and palming his aching _dick_. It didn't particularly help... nor was this where he'd wanted the night to end.

"Well, fuck," he said to no-one in particular, and settled on the open window sill to apply himself to the remedy he'd seen other bipeds take to, which relieved the pressure in a surprisingly pleasurable way, but was rather messy and distinctly unsatisfying, when all was said and done.

~~~

What the devil was wrong with that Silver kid? Ever since he’d come into Flint’s life, about a week ago, his entire world seemed turned upside down. He’d expected the maniac to last maybe a day on his ship before he realized keeping company with pirates was a terrible idea and fucked off. Instead, he’d somehow wormed his way into the minds of his entire crew. _How_ was a mystery, for Silver had no obvious skills, and he was a terrible cook on top of that, which was the simplest task to have assigned him to given his utter lack of nautical and navigational knowledge.

Flint supposed he was pretty, in that really otherworldly way that he could not quite put a finger on. But he didn’t appear to take interest in any of his crew, only fawning over Flint himself in such an obvious way that the captain had to assume it had been some half-assed attempt at seducing him in order to stay alive. He could only ignore the ridiculous heart-eyes and goofy smiles for so long, Flint was only human, but god _damn_ he probably should not have let the kid touch him.

And then, he was getting poked in the back with what was a fairly sizeable boner at that. Flint wasn’t one to turn his back and flee the battlefield, but he had hightailed it out of his own cabin so quickly that even Gates had to stop and ask him if he was quite well on his way out.

“Fine… I’m… air,” he muttered in response and looked for a place to hide for a while, at least until his own _inflammation_ came down.

When he finally deemed it safe to return to his cabin - _his_ cabin - the room was, blessedly, empty of all strange men. The back storm windows were still open, however, and when Flint went to close them the wood slid slickly across....

"What the actual fuck." Had the idiot _actually_ jerked off in his cabin? HIS cabin? Flint felt a hot rush of annoyance. That annoyance, however, was quickly replaced by the memory of Silver's unmistakable arousal pressed against his back and how long it had been since any man had been pressed against him and -

"Fuck," he muttered to himself. Fortunately the night was late; he extinguished the lamps and turned in to his bunk. Still, his mind was stuck on Silver, and Silver jerking off just feet away from where he lay, and his disobedient cock would not let him rest.

Gritting his teeth, Flint wrapped his fingers around his cock. It was a practice that he avoided if at all possible. It gave him little comfort when his mind constantly and disobediently summoned memories of Thomas. Memories of that beautiful angel of a man, his soft words and softer lips from which so many beautiful endearments had fallen. The way a single smile had been enough to erase all troubles from James's mind. The afternoons they'd spent, tangled in each other's embrace in his small, sunlit rooms, with nothing and no-one in the world but them....

This time, however, another smile invaded his memories. That quirked, teasing smile that reached to eyes bluer than the sea. Flint's fingers paused their caress. He warred briefly with himself, weighing the pain of Thomas' memory against the betrayal of this new fantasy. Who was this interloper to deserve a place in his thoughts - a place that only Thomas should occupy? At the same time, it was distinctly easier to just be angry with himself, so in the end Flint gave full reign to his fantasies.

Well, if Silver wanted him so badly perhaps he'd give it to him. He'd grab hold of the kid's dark curls and force him to his knees under his desk, force his cock past those pretty, smirking lips. It would keep him quiet, Flint thought, grinning in the dark. He rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock, stroking desire down his shaft, tightening his grip. Silver would look good, with Flint's dick in his mouth. He'd suck just as eagerly as he'd done everything else. He'd groan and swallow him down as Flint fucked his throat, he'd -

Flint barely managed to bite back a shout as he came, pleasure briefly and blessedly overwhelming his senses. But as quickly as it had come it was gone again, leaving him with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness and disgust for himself.

Despite his fantasies, Silver couldn't want that. Couldn't want _him_. Not truly. To imagine otherwise was not only folly, but certainly an affront to Thomas' memory.

At least it allowed him to sleep, though his dreams were troubled and provided him little rest at all.

~~~


	5. Poor Unfortunate Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max has a new boss, Eleanor has a new plan, and Flint finds Silver dipping into his library.

_My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold, There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold._ \- Old Sea Shanty

 

~~~

 

It wasn't enough, Max thought angrily as she righted her room, that she had to worry about her idiot brother off on some pirate ship with one of the most notorious captains in Nassau. No, now she had to worry about the fact that that idiot Noonan had decided to take a dirt nap in the mud. It wasn't like she'd harbored any kind of respect for the man who was her "owner" - quite the opposite, actually - but Noonan had been stupid, and stupid was predictable. Far more predictable than quicksilver Jack Rackham and his spitfire slip of a companion. Between Rackham's wit and Anne Bonny's temper, Max couldn't help but think that her life was going to get far more complicated than she'd ever wanted it to be.

Still, it was what it was. Max ground her ass back against some dirty pirate - what had he said his name was? Hamund? - with good coin and regarded them from across the room of the brothel, speaking heatedly to each other over a bottle of rum. Rackham was frustrated, that was easy to see, even though he tried to hide it. He had good reason to, with the girls taking full advantage of the change of management to pocket as much coin as they could. She smiled despite herself. A man like that would drive himself mad, thinking that a bunch of whores had gotten the better of him.

Bonny, on the other hand, made no attempt to disguise her frustrations. It was a problem she couldn't fight her way out of, and that would be just as maddening to a woman like her. It wouldn't be long before they gave up on the brothel all together, especially with some subtle encouragement from Max.

Behind her, her charge reached up to grab hold of her naked breasts, pulling her down hard onto his erection. His fingers twisted her nipples painfully hard. Before Max could stop herself she'd brought the heel of her boot down hard into the instep of his foot, wrenching herself from his embrace.

"You fucking slut!" Enraged, Hamund slammed her back against one of the brothel pillars with enough force that Max found the wind knocked out of her. Too late she realized that he was far stronger than his rather pudgy exterior had lead her to believe. He closed his fingers around her throat. "Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? You need a lesson in manners, whore? I'll give you a fucking lesson!"

Max tried to shove at his chest, head spinning. Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Surely the Madam - surely - she felt a spike of panic as his fingers tightened around her neck. She had to - she had -

Suddenly her attacker jerked rigidly. His fingers dug briefly, painfully into her throat. Then he coughed, blood splattering onto her from his lips, and he fell forward, crushing her against the pillar. She caught a glimpse of Bonny's face, cold and hard and strangely satisfied as the woman grabbed hold of his shirt and yanked him back to fall heavily to the floor where he lay still, blood pooling underneath his body.

"Jesus Christ, Anne!" Rackham stood up from the table so fast his chair fell over backwards.

"He deserved it." Bonny calmly wiped her sword on the dead man's shirt, then sheathed it again.

"He was a paying customer!"

"He was aiming to kill the merchandise." Bonny's eyes glanced over at her, lingering for a moment. They were a startling shade of green, Max realized as she tried to catch her breath. Then she strode back to the table and sat down again, refilling her cup of rum.

"And you're just going to leave him there?" Rackham looked a bit like a fish out of water, movements helplessly flappy. Max felt a little amusement as the world stopped spinning.

"Ain't my job to get rid of the trash."

A thought flashed across Max's mind, brilliant as lightning. She'd underestimated them, Rackham and his angry jezebel of a partner. Perhaps this place needn't get the better of them. Perhaps with a little assistance from herself, they could do good things. Perhaps even great things.

She'd have to manage them very closely, of course. But since her failure with Eleanor, Max had become very good at managing people. She'd simply have to determine how best to manipulate the both of them, like she would with any other mark. And from what she'd seen of them so far, it wasn't going to be a challenge at all.

~~~

“If we assume the lunatic is telling the truth, if we want to intercept the _Urca_ , we’ll need twelve pound cannons,” Flint was saying to Eleanor as they shared a bottle of rum. “Or we’ll never stand a chance against a Spanish warship.”

“I know how we can get the cannons,” Eleanor whispered, despite the fact that they had been sitting in her office alone. It was probably good to be cautious, Flint granted, in Nassau even walls had eyes and ears, and the last thing they needed was one of Noonan’s (or Rackham’s - who could keep track?) whores overhearing their conversation. “Captain Bryson’s ship, the _Andromache_.”

“And why would Captain Bryson give us his cannons, pray tell?”

“Leave that to me.”

“That is well,” Flint drank and let the rum percolate down his throat. “I look forward to putting that hunt behind us and moving on.” He raised his glass, “To a free Nassau.”

“You look forward to being rid of Silver?” there was a gleam in Eleanor’s eyes as she toasted him.

“Aren’t you?”

“Not I. He’s easy on the eyes,” she smiled. “And I hear the whores all love him.”

“That’s…. I’m…. no.” Flint shook his head, attempting to dislodge unwelcome thoughts of Silver amidst whores. Or Silver naked. Or Silver and his unruly fucking cock in the first place.

“They call him Long John.”

“Eleanor, _please_.”

“I could have sworn I heard Max call him ‘brother’ the other day,” Eleanor persevered. “I presume she meant that metaphorically. He cannot be her actual brother, do you think?”

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about him,” Flint protested weakly. “Where is Max from, anyways?”

“Tortuga?”

Flint shook his head again. “Well, at least she actually _sounds_ French.”

He’d never really given much thought to Eleanor’s former lover, Max, but he supposed he’d assumed she had been born a slave. Whereas when it came to Silver, well, he might as well had been born and raised in a jungle for all Flint could figure. Only the other day, he caught him staring at his dinner, and instead of eating the damned fish like a sane person, he had started having an entire one-sided conversation with it. Then he stormed off, muttering like a madman something about how “Some friends you eat, and some friends you don’t!” Flint had to consider that perhaps Randall’s condition was catching.

If only he hadn’t been so infuriatingly attractive! With his _eyes_ and his _lips_ and those god damn collarbones! And hands, so firm, so scaldingly hot on his own skin when Silver had touched him. _Jesus_.

“Where are you right now, Flint?” Eleanor grinned like the cat who got the cream.

“The _Urca_ ,” he grunted in reply. “Firmly.”

~~~

Flint had found Gates in some kind of secret cabal with Billy Bones.

“Captain,” Gates nodded at him with a glint in his eyes.

“Captain,” Billy echoed his father figure.

“Gentlemen,” Flint frowned. “I use the term loosely, of course,” he added lest they take offense. “What, pray tell, are you giggling like little teenage girls about?”

“Just a funny joke that Silver told us about whales, Captain,” Billy offered with a look of feigned innocence.

“Oh yeah?” Flint was already not impressed. “Care to share?”

“What do whales eat?”

“What?”

“Fish and ships!” Billy’s face was unreadable, while behind him Gates snorted.

“I hate you both,” Flint declared. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my quarters.”

He strode past, towards his cabin, trying to ignore the sounds of womanly tittering behind him, especially the whispers of “My money’s on two more days” and “If he even lasts that long!” Flint wasn’t sure if he had a mutiny on his hands or if he had just become the butt of an unknown number of jokes, least of them having to do with an actual whale, and most to do with his whale of a problem.

The door to his cabin stood ajar and inside a lamp had already been lit. And, somehow, Flint was not at all surprised to find Silver there, perched in a most peculiar way on a chair, with both his legs folded at the knees under him, and reading what was surely one of Flint’s books. He was so taken aback by the sight of him, engrossed by the candlelight, loose curls hanging over Silver’s eyes as he poured over the pages, that Flint had forgotten to be outraged. He supposed, in some way, this had been a relief; at least he hadn’t walked in on the kid doing something untoward.

“Which book do you have there?” he finally asked and Silver’s face shot up as if torn from a reverie.

“Christopher Marlowe,” he replied. “ _The Troublesome Reign and Lamentable Death of Edward the Second_ ,” he had read from the cover.

Flint smirked. “That is not exactly some light reading, Mr. Silver.”

“Where I come from, when books such as these come our way, often times they are in very poor condition. Your books are very well cared for. Loved even.” Silver’s hand caressed the leather binding and he flipped to the front of the play again. “As for light or dark, I care not for how it ends, but rather that the story itself be beautiful.”

“And do you find it so? Beautiful?” Flint asked, sitting down across the desk from his uninvited guest and pouring himself a glass of rum.

Rather than reply, Silver’s finger moved down the page with the gentleness of a lover’s caress, and then he opened his mouth to recite the opening lines of Marlowe’s play.

“ _My father is deceas'd. Come, Gaveston,_  
_And share the kingdom with thy dearest friend._  
_Ah, words that make me surfeit with delight!_  
_What greater bliss can hap to Gaveston_  
_Than live and be the favourite of a king!_  
_Sweet prince, I come! these, thy amorous lines_  
_Might have enforc'd me to have swum from France,_  
_And, like Leander, gasp'd upon the sand,_  
_So thou wouldst smile, and take me in thine arms_.”

Silver looked up and smiled, forcing Flint to swallow around the sudden lump that grew inside his throat. His brow felt thrown into a cold sweat along with his palms.

“It isn’t the love story that you might think it is,” he finally said, formulating words with difficulty around his parched tongue.

“How can it not be? Listen to this,” Silver insisted and continued his recitation.

“ _The sight of London to my exil'd eyes_  
_Is as Elysium to a new-come soul:_  
_Not that I love the city or the men,_  
_But that it harbours him I hold so dear,—_  
_The king, upon whose bosom let me lie,_  
_And with the world be still at enmity_.”

“It’s not. It isn’t,” Flint protested becoming acutely aware that his head was beginning to spin. “Because they both die!”

“You gave away the ending!” Silver pouted, azure eyes accusing Flint of gross betrayal.

“How could I? It’s right there in the title - _Lamentable Death_.”

“Gaveston too, then?”

“Gaveston first.”

Silver slammed the book shut as if it had burned his hands. “Why must it be so?”

“It isn’t always so,” Flint said, his voice softening. “Not for everyone.”

“They loved each other. They should have been happy.”

Silver looked out through the storm windows, his face cast into a stark relief against the darkness of the room. In the moments of silence that followed, Flint felt a yearning that seemed too close to self-delusion. He wanted to speak more, to say that not all stories had unhappy endings, to say that perhaps he could suggest a different book for Silver to read.

But, before he could even open his mouth, a harried Gates knocked at his cabin door.

“Captain! It’s the _Andromache_. She’s set sail without unloading her cannons.”

“We are betrayed,” Flint rose from his chair, Silver and Marlowe both forgotten. “Make haste, Mr. Gates. We’re going hunting!”

~~~


	6. Les Poissons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger lurks on the high seas.

_Thro' Time's long ages I shall wait_  
_To lead the victims to their fate;_  
_With callous heart, to hidden rocks decoy,_  
_And lure, in seraph-strains, unpitying, to destroy._  
― Anne Bannerman

~~~

While Silver had given up sea, he soon discovered he hadn't completely lost it. The thrill of being on the deck of the _Walrus_ under full sail, with the wind in what remained of his hair and the salt spray from the waves on his cheeks was just as thrilling as racing a porpoise under the waves.

Taking on the _Andromache_ , however, was a different story.

"Get below decks and try not to get yourself killed," Flint hissed, just before they opened fire, and Silver quickly discovered that being _in_ a battle was very different than just _watching_ one. Between the explosions and the cannon balls and the splinters flying everywhere and feeling completely helpless to assist with anything, Silver couldn't help but begin to question his usefulness at Flint's side after all.

He tried to shadow Flint as they set about trying to clear the _Andromache_ 's hold of the men defending it, while also staying out of the way. If there was some way he could help, some aid he could give!

Fortunately if there was one thing that Silver was adept at, it was watching ships. A white slip of cloth hanging alongside a cable from a hole in the side of the ship certainly was not a normal occurrence. Was it a flag of surrender? He crossed the gangplank to the _Andromache_ , then slipped up behind Flint and cleared his throat.

Flint whirled, hand on the hilt of his sword, then relaxed. "Mr. Silver, unless you have some ingenious way to clear that hold - "

"I'm not certain about that yet, Captain, but I think that there's something you ought to see?"

For a moment Flint just looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly, as if appraising his worth. Silver gave what he hoped was a confident smile, taking a step backwards. "It could be useful?"

Scowling, Flint followed. Silver beamed, leading him to the side of the ship and hanging over the edge to point down towards the cloth. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, that isn't something that should normally be there...?"

"Slaves." Flint breathed the word like a prayer - or an answer to one. Then he seized the front of Silver's jacket and pressed a hard kiss to his mouth. Before Silver could react to his good fortune, though, the captain was gone, calling out commands to his crew.

Silver leaned back against the rail, dizzy as he touched his fingers to his mouth. What a reward! Grinning, he danced back over to the _Walrus_ , vowing to himself to be useful much more often.

The next hour felt like a dream, while Silver watched the cannons being transferred from the _Andromache_ to the _Walrus_ along with their new crew of liberated slaves, including a familiar face he had seen around Nassau, in Queen Eleanor’s service. Shouts sounded in the darkness, and it appeared that a new enemy was gaining on them - this time, a British naval ship, the _Scarborough_. (Silver didn’t put much stock in these highfalutin ship names. None of them were as vivid and adorable as the _Walrus_.)

“Get us under way!” the captain had ordered, and from his hiding place, Silver could not take his eyes off Flint. The winds ruffled the captain’s hair and billowed his coat behind him like the wings of a giant stingray. Had the Red Pirate King ever looked so magnificent, so handsome as in this moment of triumph?

"What the hell is that?"

Silver slipped from his hiding place to investigate Flint's cry, darting to the rear of the ship. Something dragged in the water from the side of the ship, tangled in their ropes, flashing black and white in the darkness. One of the _Andromache's_ mast-thingies?

"That'll slow us down two knots or more, Captain!" Gates called out. "She'll catch us in no time!"

Cut it free, then. Silver touched the knife at his belt, then started to unwind a coil of rope from its pegs against the rail. He was quick, he could be over the side in a moment, he could help, he could be useful again.

He could see Flint climb over the side as Billy scaled down to the piece of debris, both pirates setting to work on sawing through the ropes. Silver grit his jaw, tying the end of the rope around his waist firmly. He could still help. He swung his leg over the rail just as a boom of thunder sounded in the distance.

No, not thunder.

Cannons.

"Oh shit!" Someone yelled out, just as chaos erupted around them. Cannonballs punched holes in the side of the _Walrus_ , splinters of wood flying through the air as men dove for cover. Silver made a split second and possibly unwise decision and let go of the rail, falling from the side of the ship and into the sea below, the dark water closing over his head.

"Man overboard!" he heard Flint call from above as he surfaced. Silver felt a rush of pleasure. Had Flint been watching him? Then he saw a head surface above him, a flash of white shirt in the water.

Around his waist, the rope that attached him to the _Walrus_ jerked taught. Silver had no time to congratulate himself for his clever forethought, however, as the ship under full sail started to drag him along after it. He managed to lunge through the water and catch hold of Billy as they passed, clutching tightly at his torso as the pull of the ship submerged them in its wake.

In his arms, Billy struggled. After a moment Silver recalled the biped's lack of gills. He kicked towards the surface, trying to push him upwards. "Grab hold of the rope!" he yelled, despite not knowing if the other man would hear him through the rush of the water. He felt a strong yank, and as they surfaced again caught sight of men at the stern, hauling back on his rope. Soon they'd be back on board. All he had to do was hold on.

He kicked against the water, heaving a sigh of relief as Billy managed to pull himself further forward along the rope, muscles bulging. They were almost to the back of the ship, almost to safety.

Then, in the wake behind them, Silver caught sight of a flash of moonlight glistening off an all-too familiar triangular dorsal fin.

Shit. Motherfucking _Sharks._ The only thing in the ocean that ate more sealife than merfolk.

"Pull faster!" Silver hollered. He floundered in the water for the length of rope, trying to pull himself forward, kicking against the waves. If he were free he could dive away, swim to the bottom and hide in the rocks for safety. If he were still a Mer it would be no challenge. But tied to the boat like this he might as well be wearing a glittering sign that said "Shark Appetizer".

“Up, up!” he pushed Billy upwards, into the air, and to safety as he scampered up the rope, feet quickly moving along the hull.

“Come on!” Billy’s hand reached down towards the water.

_Silverfin. Mami Wata sends her regards. And a reminder that cheaters never prosper._

"What?!"

_The deal was for **all** your hair in exchange for two legs._

“No!” Silver leapt out of the water, propelling himself towards Billy’s outstretched hand as he did so. Realization of the danger he was in dawned only too clearly. _Fuck no, no, no!_

But Mami Wata was not to be denied. As the crew hauled Silver from the water, the shark leapt after him, teeth closing around the end of one dangling leg. Searing pain shot through him, and Silver nearly let go. Thankfully a half dozen hands caught hold of him, dragging him up over the rail of the _Walrus_ to safety.

_Don’t fuck with Mami Wata._

The taunt of the marine asshole assassin still rang in his ears. Beneath him, the dark waters ran crimson with his blood.

"Fucker," Silver muttered, and the world around him swam away into darkness.

~~~

“Guess we’re stuck with him now,” Gates had been saying as Flint buried his head deeper and deeper in his own hands, until it began to feel dangerously as if he was about to push his eyes back into the inner recesses of his skull. “We owe him Billy’s life, we do.”

“The crew will take care of him, Captain,” Billy Bones had chimed in. Damn Billy! Flint still couldn’t be entirely sure what had happened there. One moment he had been holding on to his hand, the next… falling to the dark waters below the hull. And dangerous secret or not, Flint hadn’t wanted that. He hadn’t wanted any of it. He had _tried_ to hang on. At least he was pretty sure he did. “I’ll take care of him, personally. He saved my life.”

“What the hell was that idiot even doing in the water?” Flint groaned.

Everything was a nightmare. There was probably no _Urca_ in the first place, and the gods were just taking the piss at his expense.

“He was saving me!” Billy pronounced with indignation. “Or would you rather he had left _me_ to the sharks?”

“I’m happy you’re safe, Billy,” the captain sighed. “Honest to god, I am. That was an incredible thing that Silver kid did.” Incredible, heroic, _stupid_ thing, rash, incomprehensible thing. It appeared that quite possibly he had saved not only Billy from a dark and watery fate, but possibly also Flint himself, for who knew what kind of a price he might have to pay letting Gates’ adoptive son perish on his watch. No one would have believed him that he had tried to hold on to Billy’s hand (he could scarcely believe himself).

Surely, it was worth it. He couldn’t very well have afforded to have Billy Bones lose a leg, but Silver was… dispensable. He was loved by the crew - inexplicably - yes, but what exactly was he contributing to Flint’s life other than being an inexplicable pain in his ass?

And yet… it didn’t quite feel like such a relief.

Flint had walked slowly back to his cabin, where Doc Howell had laid out his latest patient, after having stitched up the remnants of Silver’s leg. It had made sense to place him onto a makeshift bed by the windowsill - it wasn’t as if he could very well go on using the hammock, and the captain’s quarters were certainly big enough for two.

His copy of _Edward II_ and his Lamentable Death still lay on the desk, where Silver had left it when they had begun their chase of the _Andromache_. Silver himself still lay in half-sleep, half-swoon by the ajar storm window. He looked somehow angelic in his sleep, his dark lashes fanning out over his tan cheeks that had somewhat paled from bloodloss, his curls clinging stubbornly to his sweat-drenched forehead, framing his face to accentuate its inappropriately heart-shaped outline.

Flint found himself moving to the bed, sinking down onto the edge, almost as if bespelled against his will. He reached out a hand to push a dark curl from Silver's forehead, frowning as his fingers brushed against burning skin. It was sweltering in the cabin, too hot for a man feverish from his injury. Flint pushed open the storm shutters. A cool breeze drifted into the cabin. The _Scarborough_ was nowhere in sight.

At the edge of the horizon the night sky was just beginning to purple with the approaching dawn. It made him think back to the last time he'd sat here, mind addled with rum, heart aching with loss. The black sea below had seemed so inviting, so... forgiving.

But that hadn't happened, had it? He'd been in Nassau, woken up on the docks. And then this idiot had come along....

This bloody beautiful idiot...

Silver's brows knit, and he stirred, a moan of pain escaping his lips. Sighing, Flint rose, unstoppering the bottle of fresh water Howell had left, spilling some of it on a handkerchief. Then he pressed the wet cloth to Silver's forehead.

Oh, but if the ache of his regret could somehow return the boy's lost limb! "You never should have gotten mixed up with me," he murmured. "Everyone I care about I destroy. I'll destroy you, too. I've already..."

His thought hung incomplete in the air. Gates had been right, though. Silver was his responsibility, now. Whatever the consequences of that might be.

~~~


	7. Kiss the Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the authors earn their rating.

_A mermaid found a swimming lad,_  
_Picked him for her own,_  
_Pressed her body to his body,_  
_Laughed; and plunging down_  
_Forgot in cruel happiness_  
_That even lovers drown._  
                  - William Butler Yeats

 

~~~

 

Flint soon came to rue the day he'd found Silver's cheerful disposition an annoyance. The Silver that woke up on his windowsill had lost far more than just a leg, it seemed.

"The crew of the _Walrus_ takes care of her own," Flint had told him, hovering awkwardly. "You'll always have a place here. Treasure or no."

But Silver had just nodded, staring silently out at the sea, blue eyes bright in the reflection of the sun off the waves.

"Will you come to shore?" Flint asked quietly when they finally made port at Nassau.

Silver gave a soft, broken laugh under his breath. "How?"

"I'll take you."

Silver's mouth twisted, and he turned his face away. "The last thing you need is to be burdened with an invalid."

Flint bit back an argument, forced down his growing annoyance. He sat down on the side of the bed. "I'll take care of you," he said again quietly.

"To what end, Captain? I'm completely useless to you now. Useless and crippled and I gave up all my beautiful hair. That asshole shark should have eaten all of me."

"Hey." Flint reached out to catch hold of his jaw, turning him to look at him. He forced himself to ignore the ridiculous things Silver was saying and focus on what was most important. "I don't ever want to hear you say that. You're far from useless. You're the one who saw that signal from the slaves, you gave us a way to get the guns from the _Andromache_. You saved Billy from a gruesome death and sacrificed your own well-being in the process. And last but not least, you brought me the secret to finding the greatest treasure on the seven seas.”

Silver dropped his eyes, swallowing visibly. "You made me so happy on the _Andromache_ ," he whispered. "When I showed you what I saw. When you..."

On the... suddenly the memory came back in a flash. How he'd been so excited, so relieved at the prospect of a way out. The spontaneous kiss of thanks he'd pressed to Silver's lips.

Was that what it would take to calm the boy's turbulence?

He brushed his thumb against Silver's lips, which parted to a soft intake of breath under his touch. Those impossibly blue eyes looked up at him, filled with both hope and fear at once, and an undeniable longing.

Damn him if he didn't want it, too.

Flint closed the distance between them before he could think longer, crushing his lips to Silver's sweetness, drawing him close. Silver's soft whimper sent a hot pulse of arousal through him, and it was all he could do to keep the boy's injury in mind, to not press him back into his makeshift bed and take everything he wanted. "You're not useless, and you never will be," he growled. "No more talk of sharks."

"They're assholes anyway," Silver breathed, arching up to kiss him again.

~~~

Was there more magic to Mami Wata's spell than just his legs? Silver couldn't help but wonder, tugging Flint down with him into the pillows they'd laid out for him along the bench. Was that why she'd asked for all his hair? Had he now earned the pleasure of Flint's kisses with the loss of his leg?

 _He just wants the gold,_ said a little voice at the back of his head, and Silver forced himself to push it away. He'd wanted this far, far too long to question it now. Weeks even.

Flint’s mustache felt soft and ticklish against Silver’s lips, and beneath it, the wonderful furnace of the captain’s mouth, lips as soft as the kisses of sea anemones against one’s skin. Better. The touch of them sent Silver into a wild frenzy and he allowed a moan to escape him, noting that it had been a moan of pleasure and not of pain.

Flint’s eyes locked upon his with tender care. “Are you all right? I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”

“This swelling in my trousers is incredibly uncomfortable,” Silver admitted. “I really don’t know how you can ever get any work done when it just keeps hoisting itself up at the smallest provocation.”

“I… how’s your leg?” Flint’s hand ran gently down his thigh, until it stopped at the edge of where the rest of his leg… wasn’t.

“It hurts something awful, but let us not get distracted. You were kissing me?”

“I was,” Flint graced him with a fond smile that spread all the way to the crinkles around his beautiful eyes. “May I resume?”

“I wish you would,” Silver pulled down on the captain’s collar to emphasize his desire and soon Flint’s lips were locked back to his. Silver’s arms wrapped around Flint’s neck, the kiss deepening, the slide of Flint’s tongue along his lips and his teeth sent shivers down his body. And then it was Flint’s turn to let loose a soft moan. “Are _you_ in pain, Captain? If your dick is as hard as mine right now, it must be incredibly uncomfortable.”

Flint gave a choked laugh, shaking his head. "What a strange little thing you are." Then his lips were back on Silver's, hungry as if to steal the very breath from him. His fingers pulled at the lacings of his trousers, then slipped inside boldly, cupping the length of his arousal.

A distinctly embarrassing moan escaped Silver's lips. If touching himself before had been messy and unsatisfying, being touched by Flint was proving to be completely the opposite. Well, it had the distinct potential to become messy, but Silver was willing to accept that Flint, having been a biped his entire life, clearly knew what he was doing and what he was getting into. Even if he'd wanted to question it, it was fast becoming very hard to think.

Flint shifted above him, giving a small, disgruntled noise. His hand withdrew, to which Silver responded with a displeased grunt, hips arching to chase the sensation. Before he could voice a complaint, however, he found himself cradled in delightfully strong arms, picked up and carried from the bench to the captain's bed. It reminded him of a comfortable sea cave, set into the wall, though far softer and warmer, and when Flint crawled over the top of him to bring their hips together, the sensation was so delectable that he almost forgot about his shark-inflicted pain altogether.

When Flint started to ease his trousers down his hips, though, the reminder of his violent loss came flying back.

“Don’t!” Silver’s hand grabbed onto Flint’s wrist. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Silver,” the captain exhaled. “ _John_.”

At first, it did not quite settle into Silver’s brain as his name, but when he realized it for the intimate address that it was, his heart skipped a beat and he pressed up against Flint, letting their foreheads rest against each other as he caught his breath.

“You’re beautiful,” Flint whispered. “No matter what.”

"You can't possibly - "

Flint cut him off with a firm kiss. "I'll show you." Then his lips were on Silver's throat, hot and hungry, teeth grazing his skin as he pushed Silver's shirt up around his armpits. Wet kisses traced a path down his midline, pausing to lap at the ridge of muscle on his hip, Flint's breath coming hot and hard. Then, with a moan like a man half-starved, Flint pressed parted lips to the base of his cock, suckling his way up the underside until his lips parted over the tip.

Had Silver known of this practice before, seen it performed on some other man, he would have questioned the strangeness of it, as it struck him as neither appealing nor hygienic. But feeling it first hand was like every pleasure combined at once; Flint's lips slid down the length of his shaft, suckling him, his groan of pleasure thrumming through Silver's cock like an electric eel. Silver couldn't help but arch up into it, the toes of his foot digging into the bedding, trying to press deeper into the blissful heat of Flint's mouth.

"Easy..." Flint drew back with a soft, pleased chuckle. His fingers curled around Silver's hips, pressing him down into the mattress as he returned to his ministrations. His tongue drew a long swipe up the underside of Silver's cock, eyes falling closed as his lips parted over the head.

Silver bit his lip on a moan, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. Flint was too beautiful, his lovely fiery hair falling around his face as he took Silver’s length into his mouth, tongue stroking against him warm and wet in the most intoxicating way. All the trouble, all the anger Silver was so used to seeing in his expression was gone, lost to a beautiful tranquility.

Silver's breath came faster. The pleasure was too good, too overwhelming. He laced his fingers in Flint's hair to try and anchor himself, which only seemed to spur him on. Somehow Flint swallowed him down entirely, throat tight around his cock, beard soft against Silver's balls. How could one possibly survive this? Was Flint trying to kill him after all?

He clenched his eyes shut, breath catching in his throat. "Fuck, I - "

"Mmmph," Flint said encouragingly, and swallowed him again, and this time there was no mess because, before he could think to try and stop himself, Silver was coming down the captain’s throat. Shuddering pleasure overwhelmed him, escaping his lips in a rough groan.

Flint's fingers, digging into his hips, relaxed, as if he'd only just realized how tightly he'd been clutching them. His lips slid from Silver's cock with a soft pop, panting breath hot against his skin as he nuzzled the angry red marks his nails had left behind. "See?" he murmured. "Beautiful."

The words buzzed between Silver's ears, and though he felt he ought to question just what exactly Flint's definition of beauty was, his mind couldn't quite function well enough to form the words to do so. This too felt far different than the messy time in the window. Now it felt like every nerve in his body thrummed with happiness and well-being. His heart felt lighter than sea foam, and he couldn't stop himself from tugging Flint closer, arching up to kiss those talented lips. He tasted like the sea, Silver thought, licking past his lips to chase the taste with a contented hum.

"God..." Flint groaned against his lips, shifting closer. His dick, still swollen, pressed hard against Silver’s hip through the roughness of his trousers. Suddenly curious, Silver pushed a hand between them to cup the pirate, marveling at how something that was normally so soft and floppy could be so thick and hard.

From the choked grunt that escaped Flint's throat surely it must have felt good. He rubbed his palm along its length, finding the sensation unexpectedly pleasing, the heat and weight of it against the palm of his hand. Or perhaps it was the shuddering breath Flint sucked through his teeth.

Silver caught Flint's lip between his, sucking on the soft flesh, nibbling it between his teeth. He groped for the laces of Flint's trousers. "Let me help you, too."

“You don’t have to…” Flint panted against Silver’s mouth.

“I want to. Let me make you feel good.”

Silver’s teeth grazed against the stubble on Flint’s cheek. It prickled against his tongue. He felt overcome by the taste and smell of Flint, so close, so vulnerable in the grip of his hand. When he had first concocted the notion of joining the Pirate King on land, he had not truly comprehended what it would be like, this joining, how much it might consume him. Inside his grip, Flint’s cock twitched and pulsed, Flint’s mouth latched onto the tendons of Silver’s neck as he spent himself over Silver’s stomach.

Silver felt a shiver of pleasure, closing his eyes to Flint's groan of release, to the remembrance of how good it had felt to be in Flint's mouth. This was an excusable kind of mess, he decided. He drew one fingertip through the slick on his stomach and lifted it to his lips, finding that even this tasted like the sea.

"My King of Pirates," he murmured, tilting his head up to brush his lips against Flint's. He wound his arms around Flint's strong shoulders, drawing him down into his embrace. This part he was familiar with, the giving of love and affection as a MerSir would to his beloved. And Flint curled into him as naturally as any Mer, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck, warm and sweet and perfect.

~~~


	8. Flotsam and Jetsam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gold is on everyone's mind in Nassau, and everyone has their own ideas about what best to do with it.

_We have lingered in the chambers of the sea_  
_By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown_  
_Till human voices wake us, and we drown._  
― T.S. Eliot, _The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock_

 

~~~

 

The water in the cove splashed warmly against Max’s feet while she combed out her hair and hummed an ancient sea-song under her breath. She had needed to get away from the hustle and bustle of the brothel for a while, from the piercing hawk eyes of Jack Rackham and the jade lynx eyes of Anne Bonny. She had them where she wanted them, which is to say firmly in her debt, once the old Madame had been sent packing and Max had proven herself to be invaluable to the prosperous trade of a brothel. But, while she had risen in her situation, it was a far cry from the freedom she once knew in the waters that had given birth to her.

“I will never return home again,” she spoke, eyeing the placid azure waters before her. “There is no such thing as True Love in this world.” Her hand with the comb dropped into the water and a warm breeze kissed her cheeks as she closed her eyes.

“Your brother would likely disagree with you,” an invasive voice prodded the insides of Max’s mind and her eyes flew open.

“Lord Scarletclaw?” 

“Lady Maxilla,” the crab tapped his claw to his shell in a polite salute.

“Are you here checking on my brother for Mami Wata, my lord?”

“Checking, my lady, but not on her behalf. I had heard what had befallen my old master. He had lost a limb and gained a lover.” The crab made a lewd gesture with one of his claws and twirled his mustache. “And now he has all but forgotten about his original plan - ha! Biped emissions will do that to you, don’t you agree? Addles one’s brain, it does.”

“Silence, you impudent crustacean!” Max snapped and smacked the crab with her comb, sending him scurrying under a rock. “Wait,” she startled, an idea dawning upon her, “come back here.”

The crab poked a whisker from behind his fortress.

“What did you say? About my brother’s original plan?”

“Why, he was planning on giving Captain Flint the location and schedule of the _Urca de Lima_ , the Spanish treasure galleon. You know as well as I do that any treasure on the seas belongs to Mami Wata!”

“Silverfin knows better now than to steal from Mami Wata,” Max smirked. “And what do the merfolk have planned for the _Urca_?”

“They’re going to sink her, of course. When she passes off the eastern coast of what the bipeds call Florida.”

“Oh, you mean Phallandia.” Max rolled her eyes at the thoughts of the giant land-pene.

“Why do you ask?” Lord Scarletclaw edged closer.

“No reason,” Max snapped. “What do I care for Mami Wata’s treasure? I can never return to the waters.” She waved the crab attendant off and rose to leave the shore. “Silverfin paid a high price for his happiness,” she sighed, looking out onto the waves. “But at least he can return home once his hair grows back. Good bye, Lord Scarletclaw.”

With another demonstrative sigh, she walked back towards the streets of Nassau. As she walked, a slow and bright smile stretched across her face. Well, if she could not ever return to the sea, then there was one way yet left for her to win her independence in Nassau. And she even had two perfect accomplices to achieve her goal. 

She would have to steal the gold from the _Urca de Lima_.

~~~

There was a pattern of freckles above Flint's left nipple that looked very much like The Grand MerSir constellation, Silver decided. Taking over the world astride his land horse, with his scepter pointing north and his tail curling down towards the sea - and Flint's lovely nipple. It was a nipple Silver was happy to conquer, he decided, leaning over to trace his tongue around the darkened flesh. He felt it perk and pebble under his tongue and let his lips close over the hardened nub, sucking and toying with it.

"We have to finish the resupply." Flint's chest vibrated under his lips. His fingers, though, stroked from Silver's hairline back along his scalp, tangling in his dark curls.

“Can’t you just tell your servants to resupply for you?” Silver muttered. "The crabs are so efficient."

“I don’t have servants, little darling,” Flint chuckled into his hair. “I have _hands_ , and not even very obedient ones, at that.”

“I can’t imagine why they would not obey a king as handsome and fearsome as yourself.”

Flint’s eyes sparkled with a note of wonder and he placed a kiss on Silver’s nose that felt almost reverent. Silver hummed contently, wrapping his arms tighter around his pirate’s muscular waist.

“You should stay here with me. What’s the point of having _hands_ if they don’t do the work for you?”

“If I stay here with you… Not that I would love anything more…” Flint appeared to blush for a moment and his hands stilled in their wandering over Silver’s relaxed limbs. “But we’d miss the _Urca_ entirely, wouldn’t we?”

The _Urca_. Why did the mere mention of it send a shiver of dread through Silver? Surely he was worth more to Flint now than just gold. "There will be other ships," he tried, and watched Flint's brows knit, his eyes darkening.

"The first thing you must learn about captaining," Flint started, "is that I have a responsibility to my crew. They're expecting this prize. A prize that _you_ bragged about to anyone who would listen, need I remind you. Without the prize, they will mutiny, and if they mutiny, I will no longer have a ship.”

“The _Walrus_!” Silver exclaimed, suddenly shocked. To imagine his Pirate King without his vessel was like to imagine Mami Wata without her throne.

“It doesn’t belong to me,” Flint explained patiently, his fingers tracing over Silver’s neck of their own accord while his lips traced over the shell of Silver’s ear and then kissed his earlobe, sending shivers down his spine.

“You have very strange rules of kingship,” Silver muttered, feeling his ability to think lower a few fathoms.

Between their bodies, heat welled up and sweat pooled, their skin stuck together by a mixture of bodily effusions. The scent of their recent lovemaking still clouded Silver’s brain as much as Flint’s soft touches and murmured endearments. He nuzzled his face into the hollow of Flint's neck, licking up the stubbled roughness and revelling in the salt of his skin. "Stay a few moments longer. I'm an invalid."

Flint laughed softly against Silver’s hair. “Oh, you are, are you? You seemed perfectly capable a few minutes ago when you were straddling my thighs like some fierce Valkyrie.” Silver had no idea what that was, but he did not appreciate the implication. “At least if I leave, you can have Doc Howell tend to your injury.”

"I'd rather have you tend to other parts of me." Well aware that he was pouting, Silver turned his mouth up towards Flint's. "Your fingers are far gentler and far more talented."

For a moment he thought Flint was to acquiesce. His lover took the offer of Silver's mouth with a pleased hum, hands sliding down to splay at the small of Silver's back. Then he pulled back, climbing out of bed and leaving Silver cold and naked between the sheets on his own.

"My fingers will give you what you desire once we've resupplied," he said, pressing his fingertips briefly to Silver's lips. "With interest. If you behave and let Doc Howell see to you."

"Then I can misbehave later?"

"Perhaps."

Silver leaned back against the cushions, watching the perfect globe of Flint's muscular ass as he moved across the cabin to pour water into the wash basin.

Part of him regretted telling Flint about the _Urca_ in the first place. Funny how his tool to catch Flint's interest had become his bane. He only wished they didn't need the gold at all.

~~~

Gold. Always the fucking gold! Oh, if only it would sink to the bottom of the ocean, then it wouldn’t be an issue anymore, for anyone. Flint rode up to the familiar house with a heavy heart and a mind full of conflicting thoughts.

If you had asked him only a few weeks ago, he would’ve told you that treasure galleon was his only salvation, the one sure way to achieve what he and Thomas and Miranda had always dreamed of for Nassau. It was the answer to all his quandaries, and fate had dangled it too conveniently before his nose. But in what a package! Let no one say that God did not have a certain perverse sense of humor. 

But now… Now? The thought of all that treasure nauseated him. Would John leave him once they had the gold? And god dammit, when the hell did Silver become “John” to him? 

Oh yes, probably around the time that Flint nuzzled into his beautiful, tan neck and breathed words of adoration that would make any pirate worth his salt blush and walk his own plank. He hadn’t felt this way for far too long. Not since… _Thomas._ Oh god.

And now… What was he supposed to say to _her_?

Flint collected himself before opening the door to Miranda’s house. To _their_ house. His hand slid along the handle, making him acutely aware of how sweaty his palm was. What was he going to say to her, great God!

“You’re back.” Miranda’s beautiful brown eyes fixed upon him full of worry and apprehension. “You’re very cross with me for writing that letter, aren’t you?”

The letter? Oh _fuck_! The god damn letter that Billy Bones would have taken with him to the watery grave, had it not been for a certain idiot (currently sharing Flint’s bed) and his senseless acts of heroics. He should probably care about that letter more, except for the guilt that was eating him up about… well… certain events of the past few days. 

He cleared his throat. “Hm… yes. The letter. That was a very bad letter you wrote, Miranda. What were you thinking!”

Miranda’s brows narrowed across the bridge of her nose.

“What the hell is wrong with you, James?”

~~~

The lure of the gold and the promise of fortune should have been enough for Max to ensnare Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny in her scheme. For any other pirate it would have been more than sufficient. But there was more to these two than just drinking and boozing. 

“Charles Vane has made your names anathema in Nassau,” she said, matter-of-factly, while pouring her partners a cup of rum each as they sat in Rackham’s office. “Charles Vane is fucking Eleanor Guthrie.” She observed a grimace of disgust imprint on Bonny’s face and saved it for future reference. “As long as Eleanor and Vane are against you, you have no power here. But…” she paused for dramatic effect, “...if you had gold…”

“Let me stop you right there,” Rackham interrupted. Max narrowed her eyes. Typical man. He was about to explain to her something that she had already anticipated, no doubt. “We cannot go after gold without a ship. We cannot have a ship without a crew, and we cannot…”

“Have a crew without Vane lifting his ban. Yes I _know_ ,” Max interrupted him back. Two could play at this game, foolish little human. “But Vane cannot hunt without leads, and I’ve got all the leads. I’ll give him the leads, if he lifts his ban. Problem solved.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind!” Bonny, who'd been glowering silently through the conversation, finally spoke. Her flame-red hair moved in a wave of aggression as she rose. “You really think you can steal leads from the Cunt and get away with it? She gets wind of that and we're right fucked!”

The thought of Eleanor doing anything more to Max than what she'd already done made cold anger knot in her stomach. "I am not afraid of Eleanor Guthrie."

"You fucking should be."

“Darling,” Rackham attempted to placate his lynx-eyed companion. “I think we should hear Max out to the end.”

“You actually considering this? You’re fucking daft!” Bonny exploded. “What, are you fucking her now? She using her cunt and her tits on you, like she does on everyone else, so you'll come running? I don’t fucking need this!”

“Anne, please, I only...” Max reached a careful hand to touch her arm in an attempt to intervene. 

The red-haired jezebel would have none of it, ripping Max's fingers from her sleeve. “Get your fucking hands off me!” Then she stormed from the room, the door shutting behind her with such force that Max worried for the building’s integrity.

“Well, that went well,” Jack sighed.

Max sank back down, feeling momentarily defeated.

“Don’t worry about her,” Rackham pointed behind him at the abused door. “I’ll have a nice, long talk with her later. It’ll work out. Now,” he said, taking a seat in turn, “tell me about this… gold.”

Max grinned and leaned towards him. Rackham, at least, she'd been able to figure out. The man cared for gold, yes, but there was one thing he longed for even more. Jack Rackham wanted to be as legendary as Flint, as legendary as Blackbeard himself. And she was ready to weave him exactly the kind of tale that would reel him in. “Let me tell you a story,” she began, “about a Spaniard named Vasquez.”

~~~


	9. Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silverfin learns about more of the wonders of the human body.

_"Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote;_  
_Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs,_  
_And as a bed I'll take them and there lie,_  
_And in that glorious supposition think_  
_He gains by death that hath such means to die;_  
_Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink!"_ \- William Shakespeare's _Comedy of Errors_

~~~

 

Silver sat perched on the windowsill of Flint's cabin, the storm windows thrown open towards the brightness of the waves and the bustling port of Nassau beyond. He leaned back against the frame, stretching his poor half-leg out along the wooden sill, his good leg dangling over the edge towards the sea. Flint had insisted on going into town again that morning, as much as Silver had pouted. But he had, after Silver's grumbling about being sticky and sweaty, sent Billy back from town with a large wooden basin and a bucket with some rope. It had been worth the effort of hauling water up from the sea, and, though he was under strict instructions not to soak his wounds, it had been heavenly to finally wash away the accumulated grime of being human. Splashing around had almost been enough to take his mind off Flint's absence.

Now Silver toyed with the ends of his still damp hair, which was returning to its strange human curliness as it dried. It had regrown a few inches, he was satisfied to see. How long would it be before it returned to its former glory? A cycle of the moon or two? Maybe even sooner?

_"Once it grows back, you will be free to return to the sea, regardless of how things shake out with your pirate."_

Mami Wata's words came back to mind, unbidden, but Silver pushed them away. Surely he'd never need to return to the sea, not now that he had Flint. Even after they got the gold Flint would still want him, wouldn't he? Surely he'd love Silver more, then, for being the one to give him such riches?

Still, it was easy to imagine slipping from the windowsill and into the waves that had once been his home, letting the cool water caress his skin and make him whole again.....

He was so lost in his thoughts that he must have missed the boat returning to the _Walrus_. He started when the doors to the cabin burst open and Flint strode in, flushing like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. But Flint just smiled, crossing the cabin to cup Silver's face, stealing a lingering kiss from his mouth. "You have the look of someone who's up to no good."

"Me?" Silver looked up at him in astonishment. The captain seemed in a good mood, though, humming in agreement as he caught hold of Silver's hips, pulling him off the windowsill and onto his lap on the bench.

"Yes, you. You know, I'm of half a mind to punish you for what you did the last time you sat on my windowsill."

"What did I do last time I sat on your windowsill?" Silver tried to think, genuinely confused. He was more confused when Flint just chuckled in reply, stroking a hand up the inside of his thigh. He started to mouth warm kisses along Silver's jaw; predictably, Silver felt his cock start to swell.

"I think you know exactly what you did," Flint murmured, breath hot against his skin. He licked a line up to his earlobe, nibbling at it. He ran the backs of his knuckles over the quickly growing bulge in Silver's trousers. "And it was very, very naughty of you."

Silver bit his lip on a groan, tangling his fingers in Flint's lovely hair. He tried to squirm closer, hoping for more stimulation than just the tease of Flint's fingers. "Am I really so terribly naughty, Captain?" He arched his hips forward to press against his lover's, satisfied to feel Flint's cock similarly swollen and wanting.

Flint's hands smoothed over his flanks and down to cup his ass, squeezing and encouraging the rock of his hips. "Terribly naughty and completely incorrigible," he breathed, nipping at Silver's bottom lip, then lathing the bite with his tongue. His fingers continued to knead at Silver's ass, pleasurably possessive, as his voice lowered. "Take off your trousers."

Silver groaned, already pulling at the lacing and shimmying the material down his hips. He had very pleasant memories of the last time he'd been pantless on Flint's lap, grinding against him with the length of Flint's cock pressed hard between his ass cheeks. This time, though, Flint manhandled him down across his lap until he was laid out along the bench, his good leg braced on the floor and his ass in the air. "What - "

"Shh." Flint's hand stroked over the dip of his back and the cup of his ass, rubbing and squeezing with an appreciative little hum. "You jerked off without me."

"What?"

"In my cabin. _My_ cabin. Without me," Flint repeated.

Silver squirmed a little, still rather confused. Flint didn't sound particularly displeased, despite his words. If anything he sounded particularly intent, his voice low and throaty in a way that always percolated straight to Silver's unruly cock. "I... I'm sorry? It's just, I was so swollen..."

"An apology is a start." Then Flint's hand pulled away from his ass, landing with a sharp smack on his flesh.

Silver yelped, more from surprise than sensation. "What are you doing?"

Flint's fingers rubbed over his skin. "Punishing you."

"... is this a pirate tradition I'm not yet aware of?"

Flint chuckled, low and throaty. "Disrespecting one's captain is a serious offense. But this kind of punishment is reserved only for you, my squirmy little minx."

"Oh." Still not quite sure what to think of this, Silver tried to twist to look up at the pirate. Flint made a disapproving noise, hand between his shoulderblades pushing him down and holding him firmly in place. He delivered two more smacks to Silver's ass, fast and shuddering. It wasn't particularly gentle, the sensation sharp and stinging, but there was something undeniably arousing in this act, mixing with his arousal to make his cock jerk against Flint's leg.

Flint's voice lowered as he rubbed over Silver’s abused skin. "Now... will you accept your captain's punishment like a good boy?"

Silver moaned, grinding his cock against his thigh. "Oh yes," he answered, eagerly. There was no need for consideration. "I'll accept anything you want, Captain..."

Flint's fingers dug into the fleshy part of his ass. "Careful what you say," he growled. "I may just take you up on that offer."

Silver opened his mouth to encourage just that, but his words were interrupted by another sharp blow. Now that he'd made up his mind to accept it, the intensity of pleasure was incredibly arousing. He could feel his blood flow reverse and rush like a wave headlong to his prick, which sprung forth and stabbed Flint’s thigh in a fit of unsatisfied fury. He bit his lip to prevent a loud moan from escaping.

Flint groaned for him, low and appreciative. "Do you see the error of your ways, now?"

"I..." Silver thought wildly. What was the right answer? Would it bring more spanking, or would Flint stop? And which did he actually want? "Yes?" he tried cautiously.

His answer earned him another smack on each cheek. Silver whimpered, grinding his swollen prick against Flint's thigh. "Captain, please..."

"Tell me what you did wrong," Flint growled, even as the stroke of his fingers soothed the sting of the blows. "Tell me what you did wrong, and tell me you won't do it again."

"I… jerked off in your cabin and I won't do it again." He yelped as Flint's palm connected with his ass, which was beginning to feel hot and sore from the spanking. His face felt flushed too, and a small dribble of saliva appeared to attempt to escape from his mouth.

"And?"

"And...?" His lack of response earned him another smack, making him cry out.

"You jerked off in my cabin, without me, and without my permission," Flint said sternly, fingers hot as he rubbed over Silver’s abused flesh. "You left a terrible mess on my windowsill like a dirty little slut."

“So…,” Silver panted into his own forearm, “it would have been fine if I had asked your permission first and let you watch? Just to be clear?”

Instead of an affirmative, his response pulled a grunt from Flint's lips. His fingers dug into Silver's ass again.

“Captain, _please_ ,” Silver begged, beginning to lose his mind. “It’s so incredibly swollen, I’m afraid it’s going to explode. Without your permission!”

Flint let out a breath in reply, low and slightly shaky. His fingers dragged down the crease of Silver's ass, painting a shudder of pleasure through him that felt almost as nice as when his cock had been in their place. "That's better," he muttered gruffly, fingers moving to teasing the soft skin behind his balls. "Fuck, you look good like this. Your pretty little ass in the air, all flushed pink...."

Whether it was the sensation or Flint's words that made Silver's cock jerk in painful arousal, he wasn't quite sure. "Pink is good?"

Flint's thumb rubbed up his ass crack again, pressing against the tight pucker of his hole. It was unexpectedly pleasurable - or maybe Silver was just so aroused that any contact would have felt good. Until that moment, Silver had been pretty sure that orifice only had one purpose. Then again, he had been mistaken about his third leg as well. He whimpered, squirming in Flint’s lap like a flounder tossed upon the beach. "Captain..."

"Open your mouth," Flint ordered, voice still rough with need. Silver obeyed, whimpering as Flint's fingers moved from his balls, only to reach around and press between his lips. He sucked on the digits hungrily, hips rocking as he ground his cock against rough fabric covering the captain’s thigh, doubtlessly leaving stains on Flint’s breeches.

Maybe Flint would let him come like this. If he asked. He tried to ask around a mouthful of fingers but just ended up drooling on the bench, his words garbled.

"Shhh," Flint murmured, free hand carding through his hair. "Don't worry, little darling. I'll take care of you. You've earned that."

Silver gave a contented grunt around Flint’s fingers.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me, John,” Flint’s voice trickled down into Silver’s ears, making the hair stand on the back of his neck. “Such a beautiful boy.”

Flint’s fingers slipped out of his mouth with a pop and Silver almost chased them as they departed, immediately feeling empty. Flint’s other hand drew reassuring, soothing circles over the burning skin of his exposed ass. Then his fingers pressed against the pucker of his ass, the rub of them spit-slickened even more pleasurable than it had been before.

Silver closed his eyes with a groan. Clearly this was another strange bipedal pleasure. After everything else Flint had shown him, surely this would be just as delightful? So when Flint's finger pressed up into the space that had only ever had stuff come _out_ of it, Silver forced himself to relax against the strange, spidery sensation.

"Jesus Christ." From the thickness of Flint's voice, he was undoubtedly pleased, which would have been enough for Silver on its own. But as Flint's finger slowly rocked in him the sensation became soaringly pleasurable, and not unlike having his cock stroked. He tried to shift against his lover's thigh, arching his back to give Flint better access, and was rewarded with a low moan. Beneath his own body, he felt a distinct hardening stabbing right back at him from between the captain’s legs.

"So good for me," Flint murmured again, continuing to caress him. His finger drew away, then returned with a second, the sensation intensifying, and quickly building a pleasurable crescendo. "You should see how good you look like this... pretty, pink, little ass with my fingers inside you, fuck..."

"Feels so good," Silver managed to gasp. He felt caught between humping Flint's leg and grinding back into this strange new touch. But would either truly grant him release? "Captain," he whimpered, trembling with need. "Please..."

"So fucking pretty when you beg." Unfortunately, Flint pulled his fingers away from their pleasurable stimulation of Silver's orifice. Fortunately, he quickly found himself pulled upright, then unceremoniously flung over Flint's shoulder.

"I have really no idea what in the seven seas is going on," he whimpered as Flint carried him across the room. When Flint laid him down on the bed Silver looked up at him hopefully. "Can we touch each other now?"

"Turn over," Flint ordered in reply, climbing up onto the bed with him and straddling his hips as he did. He leaned down to press a wet kiss to the small of Silver's back, licking a hot stripe up his spine. Then, with a low, almost helpless groan, his hands pulled the tender cheeks of his ass apart, lips pressing a wet kiss to his hole.

Silver's hips bucked against the bedding, a surprised yelp escaping his lips. If Flint's fingers had been _good_ this was _better_ , Flint's lips and tongue caressing wetly against him. His beard scratched roughly against Silver’s oversensitized skin as his licks and kisses became more urgent, but, like the preceding spanking, it only made the sensations even more intensely pleasurable.

"So good," Flint groaned against his skin, licking over his hole again, breath in hot bursts. Then his tongue pressed harder against Silver, breaching him as his fingers had, slick and insistent and perfect.

Silver felt that he could hardly catch his breath, thighs trembling with tension. Only Flint's hands, firmly gripping his hips, kept him from grinding down into the bed to relieve the ache of sensation. But from the hot pulses of pleasure Flint was expertly sending through him, it wasn't going to be an issue much longer. "Captain," he sobbed, groaning as Flint pushed a hand under him, fingers curling around his cock. Two rough strokes was all it took to send him over the edge, shuddering and crying out as he spilled in Flint’s fingers, feeling completely overwhelmed by the pleasure inflicted upon him.

"God, John..." Flint's helpless groan against his ass was almost enough to make him come again. Silver emitted a helpless moan as Flint pulled away, shifting to kneel over his ass. Silver tried to twist back enough to see him, only to find Flint fisting his own cock, flushed and breathless. He glanced up at Silver briefly, flashing him a feral smile before his gaze dropped to his ass again, and in moments he was coming, spurting slick and hot on Silver's ass cheeks and lower back.

Flint collapsed over Silver, pulling him into his arms and pressing his lips to Silver's heated shoulderblade. Even from behind him, Silver could feel the warlike beat of the Pirate King’s heart as it pounded against his own back. Flint’s hands trailed down his flank, traversed the swell of his hip, and tickled his thigh.

“Mmmm,” Flint murmured with contentment. “So beautiful. But do explain to me one thing? How is it that you’re so tan from the waist up, but it’s as if your ass and legs have never seen the light of day?”

Through the haze of his post-coital bliss, Silver’s mind sounded an alarm, as if the sirens had blown all their great conches.

“I’m shy,” he quickly supplied the first excuse that came to his mind. Clearly, it was time to deploy some sort of distraction maneuvers. Behind him, Flint laughed softly into the skin of his neck. "Not that I'm complaining," Silver started hesitantly, "which I'm not, because that was very, very unexpectedly nice, but, ah... is it completely... hygienic?"

Flint chuckled as he pressed a kiss to his hair, voice undeniably smug. "Why do you think I let you take a bath?"

~~~


	10. Jig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final preparations before the _Urca_ hunt begins in earnest.

(208):That works. I won't care. I'll be a mermaid. Mermaids don't give a fuck.  
(208):Especially drunk mermaids.  
\- Texts From Last Night

~~~

 

Max had always thought herself to be a good judge of character. Of course, that was before she had given up her fins for Eleanor Guthrie, but even so, at the time she could have sworn that Eleanor really did love her. Perhaps the human heart wasn’t capable of the kind of constancy that the Mer heart was. After all, nothing could outlast the sea.

“She’ll be fine, just give her some time,” Jack had attempted to reassure her once he had spoken to his Fury. The _Urca_ and her gold were too important, even for Anne Bonny to scoff about. And yet, why couldn’t Max just leave good enough alone?

Her step upon the stairs and her touch upon the door had been hesitant. But did she not once brave an unknown world and crawled out on land? Had she not bitten and clawed her way out towards freedom? She was not afraid of the unknown. She welcomed it!

“I never did thank you,” she spoke softly, standing behind the woman with the flaming hair, “for saving my life the day we first met. That man… was a brute. Thank you for what you did for me.”

“I didn’t do it for you!”

That reply had not been entirely unexpected.

“You are angry at me,” Max continued. “You see me as a threat to you? You, whom I have seen best three men at a time in armed combat?”

“Fuck’s sakes..,” came the mumbled reply. Anne remained seated, with her hat pulled over her eyes and her back turned stubbornly upon Max.

“Perhaps not a physical threat then?” Max took a breath and another tentative step closer. “Perhaps not a threat at all. Perhaps it is kindness that you fear more than violence.” Her hand barely alighted upon Anne’s shoulder when the pirate was out of her seat and pressing the blade of a knife against Max’s neck.

“The _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

Up close, her eyes were even more beautiful than Max had given credit for at first. They kindled in the dim light like a conjuror’s flame. Despite her previous resolve that this was only about convincing Anne, Max’s pulse still quicked. She wet her suddenly parched lips, leaning into the press of the blade until she was sure that Anne was leaning towards her as well. Until they both let their eyes close and their mouths meet in a kiss that was as all-consuming as it had been unexpected.

~~~

“So, here’s the thing,” Flint said to Eleanor, placing himself into the old familiar chair in her office. “Even with the cannons from the _Andromache_ , it’s too risky taking on the _Urca de Lima_ alone.”

“What are you asking me?” Eleanor leaned in.

“I am saying, we need a… cshmshh.”

“Beg pardon?”

“A cnsssrrr.”

“A corsaire?”

“Consort! All right? I need a consort!”

“The Dreaded Flint, Scourge of the Seas, Captain of the _Walrus_ , needs a partner?” Eleanor laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Well, Captain? What do you come to _me_ for? Rumor on the beach is - you’ve already got yourself a _consort_.”

“Don’t be cute, Eleanor. I come to you as a business partner and an equal, but never forget I’m both your elder and your better.”

“Ah,” Eleanor furrowed her brow. “There’s the James Flint I know and like occasionally.” Her fingers tapped along the wood of the desk. “Well then? What ship and captain do you have in mind? I can attempt to broker the deal for you.”

“I was thinking of asking for Hornigold’s ship.”

“The _Lion_?” Eleanor wrinkled her nose.

“Though my plan is to have Mr. Gates captain it while Hornigold remains at the fort.”

“Why not the _Ranger_?”

It was Flint’s turn to laugh. “Eleanor, you were the one who just mocked me for my choice of bedmates…”

“I wasn’t mocking,” she interrupted, “merely remarking. And Charles is a good captain!”

“ _Charles_ is allergic to his shirt!”

“So you’ve noticed then that he’s in much better fighting shape than Hal Gates!”

“Vane can’t control his men! You said so yourself, and I quote, ‘They’re animals!’ Yes, I believe that’s what you’d called them. And that was even before he fired his quartermaster!”

“We were going through a rough patch,” Eleanor waved her hand dismissively.

“A rough patch? My face went through a rough patch when I had to fight Singleton to keep my captaincy!”

“The _Ranger_ is much more battle-worthy than the _Lion_ ,” Eleanor insisted, patently ignoring Flint’s latest outburst. “And Vane can be counted on, both as a sailor and a warrior.”

“You stand in personal guarantee for him?”

“I have just as much to lose as you do if this were to fail,” Eleanor pointed out.

“Fine, arrange the meeting,” Flint surrendered, leaning back and closing his eyes against the madness of the world. Sailing with Charles Vane as consort - ha! He must have been losing his mind to even be considering it.

~~~

 

Silver didn't like the brothel, he decided. There was something undoubtedly crass about men displaying their desires so openly, pawing at women like they were searching for the ripest fruit on the vine, too lazy to earn love the old-fashioned way and ready to buy through coin what they could never earn with innate charm. And it smelled like stale beer and stale bodies. He felt out of place, sitting at the table on his own, nursing a cup of rum that was unsatisfyingly warm in the heat of the Nassau afternoon. Even with his ungainly fake leg tucked under the chair, the fact that he was not _one of them_ had never felt more apparent.

A set of doors opened on the second floor, and Silver looked up eagerly, hoping for Flint. Wrong doors. His sister came out, adjusting her hair and her bodice, with a faint flush upon her cheeks and over her breasts, and sat down on the bench across from him.

“What’s the word, Silverfin? I understand you have learned what the Mami had given you a third leg for?” She smiled at him, flashing a top row of teeth as gleaming as the finest white pearls.

“And you?” he frowned, looked from Max to the door whence she had just exited. “I thought you said you do not do _that_ anymore?”

“Not for coin,” Max smirked.

The door opened again, and a tall person with long red hair and a hat pulled firmly over their face slinked out like an errant jellyfish and crept down the stairs. Silver found himself grinning at his sister.

“I see I’m not the only one in the family who has developed a penchant for a certain bipedal pelt coloring.”

“Shut up, you saw nothing,” Max murmured and leaned closer. “So, tell me, brother. You are waiting for Flint and Vane to divvy up a hefty prize in there, are you not?”

Silver bit his lip and averted his eyes. It wasn’t that he had any moral quandaries about lying, per se, but Max had always been his favorite sibling. And, well, if they ever did get the gold, surely he would share his portion with her regardless, if only to get her out of this reeking den of debauchery.

As luck would have it, at that precise moment, the opposite set of doors had opened and Flint strode into the brothel, followed by a harried Mr. Gates.

“Come along, Mr. Silver,” Flint’s tone hid a note of satisfaction. The negotiation must have gone well, Silver surmised, and attempted to rise from behind the table, refusing anyone else’s aid as he did so.

“See you when we’re back, Max,” Silver smiled, hoping that the next time he saw his sister, it would be to share his good fortune and wealth with her.

Out in the street, Silver watched as Mr. Gates took his leave of the captain, having sent a wary look in his own direction.

“We are not returning to the _Walrus_?” he asked Flint.

“Not tonight. I had a better idea. Come.” Flint’s hand gently steered Silver by his elbow. “How is your leg today?”

The question itself had been matter of fact, Flint’s voice hiding no trace of pity in it, and yet, it made Silver flush to the roots of his formerly glorious hair.

“Still missing, Captain!” he snapped back in retort. “I’m more than just the sum of my missing parts, you know!” Little by little, what if Mami Wata took something else? A finger here, a toe there, until nothing was left but his heart. And that was probably the part of him the Pirate King had been least interested in to begin with.

Part of him wanted Flint to at least have the decency to look hurt by his outburst. Instead he merely sighed, lips pursing slightly as he regarded Silver. Then he hauled him up into what proved to be another bar, though this one, at least, smelled less of human rutting.

"Are you hungry? The food here is plain, but Eleanor doesn't water the gravy."

Flint's calm was difficult to stay angry at. Silver deflated, shaking his head. "Just tired, Captain. In truth... getting around on this… is more difficult than I would like it to be."

"Then we'll rest." The room he took Silver to was on the ground floor, at least, simple and clean and with a very comfortable looking bed that made Silver very much want to sprawl out and sleep for weeks. But as soon as the door closed behind them, Flint had drawn him close, one arm warm and strong around his waist as his lips found Silver's earlobe.

"You are much, much more than the sum of your parts. Missing or no," he murmured, voice throaty in a way that never failed to send shivers down Silver's spine. "I'm sorry if I made you feel otherwise."

“I’m sorry too,” Silver muttered, leaning into the heat that enveloped him. “For losing my temper. I’m not used to being so… dependent.”

Flint’s lips traced over the ligaments of Silver’s neck, with gentle insistence, and once again his mind swam, bereft of any thought that he could hold onto for a liferaft. If he could stay here, in this room, with Flint, forever, doing nothing but this, then Mami Wata could definitely take his other leg, too.

“John?” Flint’s breath tickled his earlobe. 

“Y-yes?”

“We set sail tomorrow. And you still have to tell me the rest of the _Urca’s_ schedule.”

Silver's heart sank. Of course, that was why he was here, wasn't it? He pushed Flint away, staggering back unsteadily. "I told you that you'd have it when you needed it. Isn't that good enough?"

Flint's eyebrows knit. He took a careful step after him. "I'm just trying - "

"To what? To leave me behind? I have no other use to you, Captain. I'm a burden. You might as well leave me here with the leches and the drunkards."

“Well, _I_ am a lech and a drunkard. I might as well take you with me!”

“It’s all a big joke to you!”

"You're nothing of the sort!" Finally Flint had the decency to at least sound angry. He crossed the room to take Silver by his biceps, forcing him to look at him. "Listen to me. I'm not trying to insult you, and I'm most certainly not trying to be rid of you. I'm just trying to make things easier for you. So tell me or don't, I don't care. You're coming with me either way. But I do have to instruct my shipmates on what course to take."

Flint’s eyes looked stormy, a turbulent sea from which Silver did not wish to be saved. If only he could read Flint the same way that he could read the currents, Silver lamented.

“Listen to me, turtledove,” Flint whispered and a surprising warmth radiated through Silver’s limbs at those words. “I’m not gonna lie. I want that treasure. And I know you want that treasure. But I want you more.”

Silver closed his eyes, letting his head fall forwards and sighing as Flint took him in his arms again. "More than all the treasure in the sea?" he whispered, and Flint gave a soft hum in agreement.

"More than that."

"There's a lot of treasure in the sea," Silver felt the need to point out.

"There's a lot of treasure right here," Flint responded. His hand slid warm down Silver's back, rubbing over the curve of his ass.

The pleasant sensation was an immediate reminder of other, more pleasant sensations. Silver bit his lip, feeling his cock twitch in interest. "I'll give you the schedule, if you want it."

Flint hummed gently against Silver’s earlobe. “I think the schedule can wait. I can think of a more pleasant way to spend the next few hours.”

“Does it involve being naked?”

“I very much hope so,” Flint replied with a chuckle that tickled the hot skin of Silver’s neck.

Silver felt the bed press behind his knees and Flint pushed him gently down until he was seated on the mattress and Flint was kneeling at his feet. Silver’s fingers combed through the captain’s hair and came back with the blue ribbon that Flint had used to keep it tied back. The bright, copper locks fell framing the captain’s face, and Silver let his hand linger on that sun-kissed skin, wanting to feel it beneath his own lips and tongue.

“There is still so much I feel you can teach me,” Silver whispered with the same sense of wonder that he felt the first time he had beheld the Red Pirate King.

“I’d love to,” Flint replied with a faint blush that only brought out the sea-green of his eyes. “If you let me.”

“Then show me,” Silver spread his legs and felt Flint slide in between them, his hands hot and steady on Silver’s hips. “I want to be close to you. As close as two… people can be. Will you show me how?”

Flint’s lips were upon Silver’s, needy and ravenous. It made Silver wonder how long had it been since someone else had kissed him like this. Had Flint been kissed like this since… _Thomas_. He could not ask. He could not let Flint know that he had pulled him from the watery grave that night. He could never know _that_.

Instead, he moaned and his moan was swallowed by Flint’s mouth. His hands slid down Silver’s thighs until he felt the unbuckling of the straps on his peg leg, and then Flint carefully slid it off and set it to the floor.

“Scoot up,” the captain suggested, and Silver hastened to obey, crawling back up the bed while Flint moved with feral intent over his body, poised and ready to strike. Silver pulled on the edges of the pirate’s shirt, helping him pull it over his head, exposing the magnificent constellations of his freckled skin to his gaze. He pressed his palms against Flint’s chest, loving the way the soft fur that covered patches of Flint's skin felt against the bare palms of his hand. There was nothing under the sea that felt this way. Silver’s own clothes quickly followed Flint’s to the floor, and then, “Open your legs for me,” Flint whispered, and just like that, all blood had abandoned Silver and rushed straight to his rebellious cock.

He spread his thighs as instructed, arching his hips as Flint peeled his trousers down his thighs, freeing his swollen prick. Flint's lips traced the bare skin as it was revealed, warm against his thighs, and when he was naked, nuzzled all the way back to mouth at the underside of Silver's cock with a low, approving groan. Having Flint's very talented mouth on him was nothing new, but Silver certainly wasn't going to complain about that. He carded his fingers through the satin strands of flame, tugging gently, hips arching up into the welcoming heat of Flint's mouth.

One of Flint's hands moved to cradle his balls, tugging gently at the sensitive skin, rolling them against his palm. Then he pulled back, taking a small, stoppered bottle from the table beside the bed. Silver caught a whiff of what he thought might be coconut. Then Flint's fingers were back on his balls, stroking heavenly slick.

"Oh my gods. Why haven't we done this before?" Silver tried to wiggle closer, encouraging more, groaning as Flint's slick fingers rubbed over the soft tissue just behind his sack. With the oil on his fingers his touch felt even better than the waves of the sea, gliding over his skin with none of the sticky sweatiness human skin too often had.

If Flint answered, it was muffled by the head of Silver's cock, his lips parting over it with a groan. His slick fingers rubbed against the pucker of Silver's ass, and, remembering the pleasure felt before, Silver had no trouble relaxing against their gentle probing. That, too, felt much better with the oil, Flint's fingers pumping slowly in him, pleasure slowly building like the flow of the tide until Silver was squirming and breathless.

Remembering how things had progressed before, Silver tensed suddenly. "Captain, I haven't had a bath."

Flint chuckled, breath teasing hot against the underside of his shaft. "Today I want you dirty." He pressed another finger up inside of him, pushing any argument from Silver's mind.

He bit his lip on a moan. "Captain, please...." What he was asking for he wasn't quite certain, only that the pleasure Flint inflicted on him was quickly becoming maddening.

Flint let his lips pull from Silver's cock again with a soft pop. He moved over him again, claiming his mouth as his fingers continued their slow rocking. "I think at this point you should probably call me James. Yes?"

The tender affection in his voice was almost as overwhelming as the pleasure his fingers were inflicting. Silver gasped as they twisted inside him, brushing against something that sent a shock of pleasure through him. "Oh!"

Flint's lips nuzzled against his. "You want more, little darling?"

“ _Please_ ,” Silver keened. “I need… I need…” He did not know what he needed, only _more_ and _Flint_. "James..."

"God, you sound pretty when you beg..." Flint nipped at his bottom lip, his own breath in ragged gasps. He reached for the bottle of oil again, fisting his own cock. Then he knelt between Silver's thighs, pulling his hips up onto his own lap. "Tell me if it's too much?"

"Right now I don't think anything could be - " Silver started. Then he felt the head of Flint's cock nudge his ass, much thicker than his fingers, seeking entrance. For a moment he froze in surprise, tensing, but Flint gave a little soothing noise, pressing the palm of one hand against Silver's cock where it shot up hard against his stomach, palming gently.

"Just relax, pet. Going to make you feel so good, I promise..."

When had Flint ever been wrong about that? Silver let out a shaky breath, forcing himself to relax, a low, surprised groan escaping his throat as his body stretched, _yielded_ , taking Flint in.

The fingers of Flint's free hand dug into his hip, trembling, his eyes dark with want as he looked up the length of Silver's body. Loose strands of that beautiful hair hung in his face, sticking to his skin as he slowly rocked against Silver's ass, and somehow this mix of tumultuous desire and restraint was everything Silver needed to see in him. He let himself relax, reveling in the feeling of _fullness_. Pleasure soon followed as his body adjusted. This was what he'd needed, the intensity of sensation so much better than just fingers.

"We fit together," he gasped, crying out as Flint's hips stuttered into him in a powerful rush of pleasure. Flint gave a soft, breathless laugh, rolling his hips up into him more firmly. He pulled Silver's knee up to the crook of his elbow, leaning forward until Silver was bent almost in half, until Flint could dot his mouth with breathless kisses.

"So fucking good," he growled. " _God_ , John..."

Silver’s fingers clutched at Flint’s back, scrambling to get a hold of his shoulders or clutch at the grooves between his ribs. The heat of their bodies like this, skin pressed against perspiring skin, felt all-consuming. Even all the waters of the ocean couldn’t put out the fire that was burning them up.

“James,” Flint’s name fell from Silver’s lips like a prayer. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop!”

Flint stole his words with kisses, starting to move more earnestly. Each thrust of his hips was a wave of pleasure crashing over Silver, pulling cries from his throat unbidden until all Silver could do was cling to him like a rock in a storm. In moments he was overwhelmed, pulled under, drowning in sensation as he spilled between them. Flint's hips stuttered into Silver, lips forming his name as he gasped for breath, flooding him with heat as he joined Silver in release.

"... can we bring that bottle on the ship with us?" Silver wasn't sure if he'd spoken out loud until Flint laughed, finding his mouth for a lingering kiss.

“Anything you want, love,” Flint murmured, with his lips against Silver’s shoulder. 

Silver felt his face burst into flames, blood rushing through him as if he had surfaced from the deep too quickly. He shut his eyes and opened them again, just to make sure he wasn’t, in fact, dreaming. But by the time he’d turned his head towards Flint, his pirate was asleep and snoring softly curled up against him.

~~~


	11. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt for the _Urca_ is underway, but Flint and Vane's crews aren't the only ones in on the action.

_sirens sisters singing low_  
_show me how your gardens grow_  
_tell me how how the current flows_  
_teach me how to breathe below_  
                         -S.J. Tucker “La Sirene”

~~~

 

_Sil-ver-fin… Sil-ver-fin…_

The siren song pierced through the dream veil even as Silver lay snuggled up into his pirate’s embrace. Was it a siren song, or had it merely tollen six bells of the middle watch? The sky outside was black, as Silver extricated himself from the warmth of Flint’s arms and slipped his mangled leg into the heavy boot.

_Sil-ver-fin…_

No, no, that was definitely a siren’s call.

He descended to the main deck as quietly as his metal foot permitted and lowered himself by the railing, using the ropes for support.

_Where are you going, Silverfin?_

Behind their stern, at a safe distance, he could make out the white sails of the _Ranger_. While in the moonlit water around the hull, Silver could spot the shimmer of the sleek tails of the other Mers.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied quietly, knowing that his kin did not need to hear his voice to feel his response.

Nor did he need to hear their reply. It was obvious what was happening around the _Walrus_ : Flint’s ship had sailed right into a Mer-army headed the same direction as them. Some swam along aided only by their own arms and fins, while others rode their mighty horses and wielded their tritons. So much more beautiful than land-horses, Silver couldn’t help but think. With their ridged brows and their curved tails, and none of those unsightly hoof things, that required metal “shoes”. How poorly was this land animal made to require such crude biped intervention?

_We’re going to sink the Spanish treasure galleon._

“Not if we get to her first,” Silver smirked.

_Hubris, Silverfin, is what got you into trouble in the first place._

“I thought it was my vanity,” he replied, running his fingers through his hair. Yes, it was coming along nicely. Soon, at least, he would be able to compensate for his lost appendage with having his magnificent locks back.

 _For Mami Wata!_ rose up the cry all around him. _Mami Wata!_ echoed the horses. _Mami! Mami!_ came the dolphin cry of the rear guard.

_FOR MAMI WATA! FOR MAMI WATA!_

The din of the marine cacophony pierced Silver’s eardrums with its rising pitch, forcing him to cup his hands over his ears. How unaccustomed he’d become to this! How used to the soothing, gravelly tones of Flint’s voice as he murmured human sweet nothings into his ears. No, he could never leave James. He was his home now, not the sea.

“Ugh, go away!” he hissed to his kin below as he scrambled back up to his feet, swaying unsteadily against the railings.

The din of the merfolk died away in the distance as quickly as it had started up. They were lucky, Silver supposed, that they held nothing on board that the merfolk would deem of great value, or else they could have easily sunk the _Walrus_ on their way to shipwreck the _Urca_.

He needed to wake up Flint now, and tell him about a shortcut that he knew towards the coast of Phallandia. It was a good thing, after all, he hadn’t written any of the schedule or course down: this way, at least, he wouldn’t have to explain himself. There was no time to waste. They had to get to the _Urca_ before it followed the siren’s call.

~~~

Even in the early morning light, Flint could see the storm clouds that teemed on the horizon, black against the purpling of the sky. Angry winds whipped at his coat as he stood on the forecastle deck of the _Walrus_ , the sea-spray cooling on his bare skin. Despite Silver's assurances, there was no hint of anything on the horizon before them.

"Storm looks like a bad one, Captain!" Gates yelled from the main deck, voice raised over the sound of the wind. "Can't outrun her on this course! We need to turn aside!"

Flint glanced to Silver. He gave the barest shake of his head, tight-lipped. Flint leaned over the rail to call down to his quartermaster. "Steady as she goes, Mr. Gates! If we turn aside now, we'll lose the prize!"

"I hope to god you're right about this," he murmured, looking to Silver again. "If the _Urca_ 's not there...."

"She'll be there," Silver insisted, eyes narrowing as the growing winds whipped at his hair. "We won't get another chance at this."

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Silver." Flint turned at the fall of Gates' boots as he joined them.

Moments later Gates was at his side. "Prize or no, even if we catch up to her we're not going to be able to take her if the storm catches us first. Mr. DeGroot is getting mighty antsy about this wind."

"We're going to catch her," Silver insisted, an undeniable ferocity in his eyes. Flint felt his cock stir disobediently, and banked down his arousal. He'd kiss Silver silly for it later... if there was a later.

Then a cry came down from the crow’s nest that was music to his ears. "Sails!"

Flint searched the horizon. There - a hint of white. He lifted his spyglass, trying to focus. The galleon was big, flying the Spanish colors. And riding low in the water. Undeniably fat with gold.

"It's the _Urca_!" He called, and a cheer went up from the men. "Signal the _Ranger_ , Mr. Gates! Raise the t’gallants!"

"In this weather, Captain?"

"Can't be helped, we have to catch her before the storm does!"

"And before they do." The words Silver murmured were so low that Flint wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly. But there was no time to question. The battle would have to be fast and sure if they were to secure the ship's surrender before the storm hit.

In the distance, the _Urca's_ sails grew larger as they gained speed. She was under full sail, but the weight of the treasure would slow her down. Flint eyed the approaching storm clouds, trying to judge their speed.

Then, from the crow's nest, came another cry. "Land ho!"

“She’s heading for the harbor!” Billy’s voice shouted over the wailing of the winds. “That storm is a ship killer, Captain! We’ll never outrun it by chasing the _Urca_.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Silver cut in, his hand gripping at the ropes as he attempted to valiantly keep his balance. “Either we take her, or the sea does!”

“The _sea_ will take us all, you curly thief!” Billy snarled, towering over Silver with his superior height and strength.

“I’ve taken nothing from you, you ungrateful shit!”

"You two can fight it out when we're rich!" Flint snarled at both of them. "In the meantime, Billy, man your station!" There was not a moment to waste - time to strike the fear of Captain Flint into the hearts of the men on the _Urca_. There was nowhere for them to run. "Raise the black!"

The sight of his flag snapping dark in the hazy dawn sent a thrill through him. There was something primal about abandoning himself to the hunt. Something pure. The cold salt spray of the sea in the growing winds became invigorating. He didn't have to think about the past or the future, what had been or might be. There was only the moment, the thrill of the chase, the bloodlust of battle. The uncertainty that any moment might be his last.

Soon they were close enough that he could almost see the fear in the eyes of the Spanish. The _Ranger_ peeled away towards the open sea to flank her. The shore approached. It would be close. But they could take her. They had to.

“Gun crews at the ready! Open the gun ports!” His command echoed across the ship as the crew relayed it. The flags went up to signal the _Ranger_ , but Flint had little doubt it was necessary. Vane, for all his beauty and swagger, had piracy in his blood. They'd take this prize together just fine.

"Cannons ready, Captain!"

Flint raised an arm to shield his eyes from the rain, satisfaction thrumming through his veins as they slid neatly into place alongside the _Urca_. "Fire!"

~~~

The roar of the cannons was almost deafening. Yet, they were the least of Silver's worries. He clumped past the helm and up the stairs to the poopdeck, casting his gaze down into the swirling waters in the wake of the ship. In the angry, storm-rough water, the army of his mer-kin raised their arms as they caught sight of him, their voices an angry snarl on the wind.

_Traitor! Traitor! Sink the ship! To arms!_

_Shit._ He hurried across the deck to where Flint stood, yelling orders. "Captain! We have to run her aground!"

"What? Are you crazy?"

"Guns at the ready!" someone called, and Silver raised both hands before Flint could open his mouth.

"Don't fire! You'll only help them! If they sink the _Urca_ in this water we'll never get the gold!"

"We're not going to sink her," Flint shot back. "Why the hell would we run her aground when we have her?"

Silver glanced back towards the darkening skies in panic. Surging with the supernatural power of his kind, the clouds overtook them and the full fury of the storm unleashed itself around them.

"Get below deck!" Flint hollered at him, then strode away, shouting commands at the crew.

He couldn’t! But he could not very well remain on deck, could he? He was never the most agile seaman on two feet, and now with the ungainly metal appendage weighing him down, he was more liability than help. He understood this, _logically_. But his vision still went white with fury. Flint must have thought him to be an idiot - albeit, he hoped, a very pretty one - but an idiot none the less, to be ordering him below deck.

_Sil-ver-fin… Sil-ver-fin…_

“Fuck off!” Silver buried his head between his knees and placed his hands over his ears again. In vain, he knew, it wasn’t with his ears that he was hearing his brethren.

_Can’t wait to eat your captain, Silverfin!_

"The Captain of the _Ranger_ is tastier!" he hollered back at them. He should have known the merfolk would have brought their army of shark goons on this hunt! Those slippery, bloodthirsty assholes!

_And then your other leg!_

_Ah-ha-ha! AH-HA-HA! **AH-HA-HA!**_

“Dicks!”

Around him, the crew of the _Walrus_ rushed to drop sail in the storm, battered by the howling wind and sheets of torrential rain. The ship pitched violently on the waves, sending men sprawling, and only Silver's quick grab at the rail of the poopdeck kept him from sliding across the slippery boards. Below him, the man at the helm went flying, the wheel spinning wildly.

"Captain! We're gonna run aground!" Gates hollered. Through the rain, Silver could see Billy barreling across the deck towards the abandoned helm.

Flint started for it at the same time, fierce and fearsome despite the storm. But all his beautiful ferocity was no match for the storm. Silver watched, horrified, as the ship pitched, a mighty wave crashing down onto the main deck.

The water cleared. Flint was gone.

"Gods fucking dammit!" Silver scrambled to cross the deck on the careening ship. Treasure be damned - those bloodthirsty Mers and their asshole sharks were _not_ getting their hands on his Pirate King! There was no sign of Flint in the swirling waters, but that wasn't a concern - the water was his home, and even with half a leg missing he'd be damned if he'd let his own kind outswim him. Unbuckling the heavy boot of his fake leg, he hauled himself over the rail and dove down into the swirling water.

~~~


	12. Destruction of the Grotto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes' fates are revealed.

_"We can spend eternity at sea. Because our hearts are as cold as the water." - Charmed_

~~~

 

Flint awoke to the hot glare of the sun, his head pounding. He spat out the grit in his mouth, blinking against the brightness of the light. The cool froth of a wave washed up his body. He forced himself to sit up in the surf.

The sky was clear and bright before him, the ocean clean. Calm. The sun was high in the sky. The storm that had ravaged his ship was gone without a trace, as if it had been summoned and then dispelled by forces beyond the laws of nature.

Without a trace... apart from the battered skeleton of the _Walrus_ , caught on the rocks near the beach, sagging sadly on her side.

 _His ship._ How many of the crew had survived? The beach between him and the _Walrus_ was strewn with flotsam and the remains of their supplies. Dozens of men worked to pull them from the water up onto the sandy shore.

As for himself, it appeared that once again he had been ready to sacrifice his life to the ocean, and once again, the water had rejected him, and spat him out as if recognizing him for the poison that he was. 

It would be weeks before the _Walrus_ could be made seaworthy again - if at all. Would the supplies last that long? The _Ranger_ was nowhere in sight, forcing Flint to assume the worst about Captain Vane and his crew’s fate. That they'd lost the _Urca_ was a given. Losing his ship was a far greater crime against his crew - those that survived. And Silver...

Oh god, Silver. Flint scanned the beach wildly, eyes searching for the familiar limp of his unfortunate lover. But how could Silver have possibly survived such a wreck? Flint scrambled to his feet, starting down the beach, feeling as if the world had suddenly run out of air. Why hadn't he made Silver stay behind, safe in Nassau? As much as Silver had fought the idea, Flint had only given in because he'd wanted the beautiful young man at his side. He'd brought Silver out into this, and now...

"Captain!" Billy straightened from pulling a barrel up onto the beach. "We thought the sea had taken you!"

"Where's Silver?" Flint demanded, grabbing the front of his shirt. "God help me if you idiots left him to drown - "

"He's fine! Jesus, Captain! He's up the beach, in the water. Helping with the recovery." Billy pulled his shirt free of Flint's grasp, scowling. "Damn kid swims better than a dolphin, even one legged."

Silver was alive. Flint felt his lungs finally fill with breath. He hurried down the beach, eyes searching the surf.

"Hey, Captain!"

He turned at Billy's call. "What?"

"He went in after you, you know. When you got swept overboard. Thought you should know." There was a strange expression on Billy's face. Perhaps somewhere between envy and admiration, Flint thought, then pushed the silly idea aside.

"Thank you," he called back, then hurried on his way.

Others called out to him, but he ignored them. He could deal with that later. He needed to see Silver with is own two eyes, to reassure himself...

"Captain!" The call was faint, but sweeter than birdsong. Flint raised a hand to shade his eyes, following the sound of Silver's voice. He finally found him out closer to the wreck of the _Walrus_ , perched on a rock, waving what looked like his fake leg in the air.

Jesus. Flint made his way into the surf, kicking through the water. It didn't take long to reach the rocks where Silver sat.

"You idiot!" he roared, hauling himself up the rocks. Silver opened his mouth to splutter a reply, but before he could speak Flint had claimed his lips, tangling his fingers in the wet curls of his hair as he kissed him again and again, careless of any audience that they had doubtlessly attracted. Silver relaxed under his kisses, arching into him, breathless and dazed when Flint finally released him.

"I can be an idiot," he agreed amicably.

"You went overboard after me," Flint growled. "Do you have any idea how stupid that was?"

"I’m a good swimmer!" Silver tried to protest.

"You could have gotten yourself killed! Then where would I be?"

"I..." Silver stopped, then flushed, protest draining away. "You do care."

Flint coughed to try and cover the sudden surge of affection. "You're part of my crew. Of course I care."

"Then I'm sorry I worried you," Silver replied, looking almost giddy with joy.

"Yes, well." Flint coughed again, voice gruff. "Let's get you back to shore."

"Oh - I can't go yet. Actually I need you to bring me something that can float. It turns out that land crabs don't like to swim."

What was the silly little thing on about now? "What?"

"Betsy," Silver replied, motioning with his hand. Further up the rocks, Randall's cat hissed at him as if Flint was personally responsible for the fact that she was drenched and shivering. "She found my leg!"

Flint wasn't sure he wanted to get anywhere near the hissing bundle of clawed fury, but he certainly needed any bonus points he could earn with the crew at this point. He sighed. "Fine, we'll get the cat to shore."

Gates, thank god, was fortunately among the survivors. "Only a dozen souls unaccounted for," he told Flint when they met. "Can't say the same for the _Ranger_ , I'm afraid. No sign of Captain Vane."

“Damn it.” Eleanor was going to kill him. And then probably cut his balls off out of sheer spite. That is, if they ever got back to Nassau at all. "And the _Urca_?”

“Funny story, that,” Gates replied scratching the back of his head. “Sent Joji and Dooley up the coast, to do some reconnoitering?”

“And?” Flint’s entire body language said that he very much doubted the story was as funny as Mr. Gates had claimed.

“The _Urca_ , Captain, she’s sitting on the other side of this beach, just over this hill. With no armed convoy, and all the gold that the Spaniards have dragged onto the shore. Perfectly ripe for the pickin’.”

Here, Gates handed over a spyglass to Flint, so that he could convince himself of the accuracy of the situation.

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered.

Turning behind him, Flint encountered Silver, bright eyed and grinning the smile of a thousand stars, and looking entirely overly pleased with himself.

“Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, pet,” Flint whispered into Silver’s ear, brushing his lips against the shell as he moved past his lover. “There’s still the question of getting this gold off that beach,” he resumed conversation with Gates. “We’re not going anywhere with the _Walrus_ in the shape she’s in right now. And the _Urca_ , far as I can see, is even worse off. And if we can’t get off this beach, if the Spaniards and the Natives don’t kill us first, we still face a very realistic chance of dying of thirst and hunger right here.”

“To die in Phallandia,” Silver muttered and Flint cast him a questioning look. The kid was an idiot, but he was _his_ idiot.

“We’ll think of something,” Flint said, in the most reassuring voice he could muster, and took Silver’s hand into his own. “Believing in you got me this far, hasn’t it? Now, you must believe in me.”

In front of them, Gates cleared his throat.

“What should I tell the men, Captain?”

“Take stock of all our supplies,” Flint began reciting his orders, “make a list of everything. Send out a small troop to find potable water, we’ll have to ration…”

A cry from the shore interrupted him.

“Jesus Christ,” Gates scratched his head again. “It’s Charles Vane.”

“Of course it is,” Flint muttered, lifting the spyglass to his eye again. “And in case I had any doubts, he’s completely naked.”

~~~

Well, this was awkward. Silver hid behind the rest of the crew of the _Walrus_ , busying himself with petting Betsy the land crab, while everyone else surrounded the freshly beached Captain Vane, the seeming sole survivor of the _Ranger_.

 _Leave this crew alone,_ Silver had hissed again at his kin when he'd gone into the sea after Flint, baring his teeth. _If it’s biped blood you want, go after the Ranger. I told you: Vane is more delicious!_

He was _hoping_ the Mers would just eat him. But by the looks of it… Nope.

“There was something… in the water..,” Vane was saying to Flint, his voice even more gravelly and hoarse than usual. “Many somethings. I… I don’t know… they touched me… a lot.”

“Clearly Captain Vane has swallowed a lot of seawater,” Doc Howell had suggested, much to Silver’s relief. 

“What happened to your trousers?” Flint asked, ever distrustful of the Universe.

"The savage beasts took them," Vane growled. "Tore them right off me."

“The Spanish?”

"Not the fucking Spanish! The things! In the water!"

"I did see some sharks," Dufresne piped in, clearly looking for a chance to be helpful.

"Sharks that only eat pants?" Flint cast his book-keeper a dubious look.

"Sharks don't touch you like that," Vane muttered darkly.

Well, pants or no pants, he was definitely alive, Flint reasoned. And all of Eleanor's favorite bits were clearly intact. That was enough for him. "For the love of god, someone find Captain Vane some trousers. There's work to be done and treasure for the taking!"

~~~

Max looked off from the brothel balcony towards the bay, telling herself firmly not to worry. The fact that it had been over a week since the _Walrus_ sailed away with her brother and the _Ranger_ to hunt for Spanish treasure didn't mean that the mission had been a failure. There were dozens of legitimate reasons why they could be waylaid... couldn't there?

She heard movement behind her. Moments later Anne pressed up against her back, stroking her hands over the bodice of Max's new dress and around her waist. Anne’s lips pressed warmly near the neckline of her dress, trailing scalding kisses slowly up her neck.

Max closed her eyes despite herself, leaning back into the warmth of her lover’s embrace. Despite her rage and savagery, Anne had proved a delightfully ardent lover in bed once Max had managed to get her there. Max felt a throb of heat between her thighs at the remembered pleasure, reaching back to stroke a hand up Anne's hip. Her waist was bare above her trousers, making Max think about how nice it would be to turn in her lover's embrace to caress her bare upper body, to fill her hands and mouth with the softness of Anne's pert breasts.

"You left bed too early," Anne murmured against her ear, nibbling on the lobe. "Now what am I s'posed to do?"

She smoothed one hand up over the curve of Max's breast, cupping and squeezing gently, thumb stroking the bare skin above the neckline. Max bit her lip on a moan. How was it that Anne's touch was so much more enticing while being so much more tender than any of the men who had pawed at her? She was certainly far more forward than Eleanor, who'd preferred to let Max take the lead.

Max pushed the thoughts of her betrayer from her mind. "I could come back to bed," she offered hopefully, only to hear Anne chuckle, low and devious.

"Too late for that now, ain't it?" Continuing her caress of Max's breast, her other hand smoothed down her midline, pressing the full skirts of her dress between her thighs. Max drew a gasp, hips arching up into the touch instinctively.

"My dress," she protested weakly, and Anne chuckled again.

"So worried about your fine, pretty things, ain't you? Like a right fine lady, you are." Instead of stopping, her fingers grabbed at her skirts, pulling them up until she could reach her hand underneath. Her fingers stroked over Max's bare thigh with an appreciative hum. "I see you ain't so much of a lady that you put on underthings."

Max tried to find breath to reply as Anne's clever fingers pressed up against her sex. She wiggled them against her with a low, appreciative hum, licking up Max's neck. "Maybe you really ain't concerned about anything," she breathed.

It was hard to argue when her body agreed, quickly becoming slick with arousal as Anne's fingers slid along the length of her sex in slow strokes, fingertips teasing against her small nub of pleasure. Her fingers clenched at the railing of the balcony. "Anne, people can see us..."

"Can they?" Anne's smirk was well apparent in her voice. She crooked her fingers to push up into Max, the heel of her hand rubbing delightfully against the mound of her sex as Anne started to fuck her in earnest. "Seems to me like you shouldn't care about that right this moment. Seems to me like you should only care about the fact that my fingers are in your sweet little cunt."

Max whimpered despite herself, hips arching up into the stimulation. Anne shifted to press more against her side, letting Max's hip press half between her thighs. She pulled Max's mouth to hers as her hips rolled against her, groaning against Max's lips. "Let them see," she growled, breathing harder as she continued to grind against her. "Want all of Nassau to know that no-one's allowed to touch you but me. You got that?"

"Yes," Max gasped, heart pounding. Why did it feel so good to hear Anne say such things? The last thing she should want was to belong to anyone! But the insistent press of Anne's fingers was too powerful a distraction, and soon enough she could think of nothing but the need for release, thighs shuddering as she whimpered against Anne's lips. "Anne - please - "

"Love how you whimper when I fuck you," Anne replied, words rough and breathless. "Love the way you sound when you come, sweetheart..."

" _Dieux_ \- !" As if commanded, Max's body tumbled into ecstasy. She jerked up against Anne's fingers, crying out into her mouth. Her lover gave a low, triumphant groan, still thrusting against her, and seemingly unsatisfied with her accomplishment, continued the stimulation, wringing shocks of pleasure from her with insistent fingers. She groaned her own pleasure against Max's lips as she did, undoubtedly finding her own release, finally letting Max go from the haze of orgasm when Anne herself was breathless and spent.

Pulling her hand from under Max's dress, Anne licked her fingers with a hum. "Might have to go have a wash now that I've made you all messy," she purred. Then she pulled away with a wink and headed back inside, leaving Max clinging to the railing, unsure of her ability to walk.

Max’s heart thumped painfully in her chest, traitorously, and she pushed aside the urge to chase after her lover. What would she do then? Beg Anne to come to bed and _cuddle_?

Wash, then. A true bath. The ocean would clear her mind and set her head on straight again, she thought. Picking up a basket for her things, she started carefully down the stairs and out of the brothel for the sea shore.

The water in the cove felt warm and luxurious against her skin as she floated on her back, gently kicking her feet as if they were still flippers. Her mind wandered, back to Anne, and how her fingers had felt on her skin, and for a few moments she forgot that she had come here to clear her head.

So lost she was in thoughts of Anne that she didn't realize she had company until something sharp nipped at her heel. She kicked at it with a cry, inadvertently sending Lord Scarletclaw reeling away through the water.

“What is it, you consummate gossipmonger?” she bobbed up and down while treading the water.

“Disaster, Lady Maxilla!” the crab attendant pronounced with his usual flair for the dramatic.

“ _Eh bien_ , go on?”

“Oh dear, oh dear, my lady,” the crab chattered with glee. “Both ships pulled asunder! Captain Vane molested! His whole crew eaten! What fun!... I mean, tragic, very sad, really.”

“What about Silverfin, you dolt?” Max circled the crab, resolved to cook him for her next dinner if he did not provide her with the information she wanted.

“Your brother is safe, oddly. And somehow managed to get his flame-haired lover past the sharks and the cavalry as well. Most likely having something to do with what befell Captain Vane. I do smell your brother in all this!” Scarletclaw waved a whisker at Max, as if he had been shaking a finger in shame. “But… be that as it may, he is likely to die on that beach without rescue.”

“And the _Urca_? Finally, you wordy crab! What happened to the _Urca_?”

“She is broken and run ashore. All that gold - so close, yet completely out of our reach, my lady!”

“What a pity,” Max smiled.

“If only my lady had her tail…”

“Silence, you crustacean nuisance!”

Lord Scarletclaw bowed obsequiously and dove back towards the sandy bottom of the cove.

With a few sure strokes, Max had reached the rocky shore again, heaving herself onto a slippery promontory and taking the time to wring the saltwater out of her hair. Nassau’s crews shipwrecked. The _Urca_ run aground in Phallandia. Her brother in need of rescue. If only she had a tail? Ha! If only she had a ship and a crew willing to sail it!

And, as luck and her cunning plans would have it, she did.

~~~


	13. Tour of the Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, it was the only way to get them both to shut up.

_Sea-foam_  
_And coral! Oh, I'll_  
_Climb the great pasture rocks_  
_And dream me mermaid in the sun's_  
_Gold flood._  
― Adelaide Crapsey

~~~

Silver's delight at managing to keep the _Urca_ gold out of the hands of his former kin was short-lived. Phallandia was as disgusting as he had remembered. They might as well have been marooned on an island with no inhabitable land in sight. To the south, miles of sheer cliff-face boxed them in. To the north, a beach full of Spanish that were rapidly dying from some kind of hell fever that needed to stay _Spanish_. And even if they had gotten beyond, hundreds of miles and tribes of very angry natives still sat between them and any kind of civilization - civilization that would, in any case, have them hanged for piracy.

The single cask of fresh water he'd managed to recover untainted from the wreck was dwindling quickly, barely augmented by the tiny stream of fresh water Billy had discovered in the cliffs. Certainly not enough for over three dozen men who were trying to repair a ship. On top of that, Silver had the distinct impression that Flint was slipping him extra rations. He couldn't tell the captain that when he was swimming his gills could filter all the moisture he needed from the sea. He slipped his rations to Randall, who was undoubtedly sharing with Betsy anyway.

The food situation was even more dire, with their supplies ruined by the sea. One of the _Walrus'_ longboats had survived the wreck, but even the most competent fisherman on the crew seemed incapable of pulling anything substantial. Probably those asshole sharks, Silver thought. And Silver...

Silver was, for all intents and purposes, under beach arrest.

"Just let me go out," he said to Flint again. "I'll bring back loads of fish. I'm actually quite good at it."

Flint frowned. The furrow between his brows deepened. Silver tried his best hopeful smile despite being quietly disappointed that Flint still thought him clearly incompetent in this regard.

"Am I really good for much else?" he tried finally, and Flint sighed.

"Fine. But I'm coming with you."

~~~

There was both an art and a sport to hunting the dumb fish. Silver settled in the bow of the boat with spear in hand, eagerly scanning the clear blue waters underneath. It would be far easier if he had his tail, of course. Or even if he could be in the water, luring his prey with the siren's song. But he was certain he would still find success.

"I don't think they're going to just come to you," Flint remarked, squinting down at the water in the bright sunlight.

"It's all about patience," Silver murmured, frowning. The shallows should have been teeming with life, but...

Then a large, dark shadow passed under the boat, and he understood why all the previous men had failed. "Assholes!"

“Even so,” Flint’s hand was suddenly hot against Silver’s lower back, where his shirt had ridden up exposing his flesh exactly where his tan faded into the pale skin of his newly acquired ass cheeks. “Perhaps you and I can use this time apart from the men for something more… relaxing, than slowly dying of starvation.”

“Are you… actually making a pass at me right now?” Silver squinted at his lover. “You know, for someone who is in control of so many men’s lives, you’re awfully unaware of your surroundings. I’m frankly amazed you made it out there, on the open water, for as long as you have. I will attribute this to your uncontrollable lust for me, of course, and I’ll assume you have not felt this way for a very long time…”

“You talk too much,” Flint grunted. His hand slid down to cup and squeeze Silver's ass.

Only the dark and looming shadow passing under their boat again was enough to keep Silver from grinding back into his touch. "There is something," he said pointedly, "in the water below this boat that wishes to eat us."

Flint smirked. "Like the mysterious things that took Vane's trousers? I could give them a run for their money."

"Like the asshole that took my leg!"

That, at least, sobered his lover. Flint leaned out to look down into the water, frowning. "Well. I suppose that would explain the trouble with the fish."

"You think?"

"Well..." Flint eyed the other spear. Then he started securing the end of its rope to the bow of the boat. "Nothing's saying we can't eat _that._ "

Silver opened his mouth, then closed it again. Eat a _shark?_ Disgusting!

Then again... "There would be a certain satisfaction in eating the thing that ate part of me."

Flint chuckled, low and throaty. "Exactly. Now, when it makes the next pass..."

But before Flint could finish, there was a mighty splash. Yards away the shark's dorsal fin broke the surface, glinting black against the sea-bright waves. Silver's hand gripped the spear tighter, but he forced himself to hold back. Even his best throw couldn't reach that distance.

 _What are you waiting for, So-called Prince of the Sea?_ The shark's taunt made Silver's blood boil. He tried to follow its shape as it disappeared beneath the waves.

_Pretty little MerSir all afright_  
_Grabbed a spear ready to fight_  
_You won’t save your biped love_  
_From below or from above_  
_Can’t escape my mighty bite!_

"Fucking asshole," Silver snarled, wishing he dared yell back but acutely aware that Flint couldn't hear what shrimp-for-brains was saying. And yet… “Your poetry sucks too!”

“What did you say?”

 _Crap._ “I said this spear sucks too.”

"Well, we're going to have to make do."

"I'll do more than make do." 

Hearing the shark break the surface behind them, Silver whirled - and none too soon. With a mighty jump the shark rushed towards them, jaws gaping. But Silver hadn't spent his childhood mastering the great triton hunts to miss his mark now. He drove the spear forward, into the shark's open mouth and up into its skull, its powerful jaws of daggers snapping closed just shy of Silver's hand, splintering the shaft of the spear into pieces.

For a second, elation overwhelmed him. Then he remembered that they were supposed to be eating the damn thing. Fortunately Flint was at his side before the thrashing shark could sink beneath the waves again, driving his spear deep into the back of the would-be-assassin’s neck. Then, as the churning water calmed, they carefully drew it back up to the surface and hauled its slippery carcass into the boat with them.

Before Flint could start for shore, though, Silver drew his belt knife. Grabbing hold of the scarred black dorsal fin, he drove his blade deep into the cartilage, sawing until the fin broke free. Then he sliced the blade across the surface of the fin, deftly carving the glyph that formed his name.

"What on earth are you doing? You can make soup out of that, you know."

"I'm sending a message," Silver shot back. "Some things are more important than soup." Shoving his knife in his belt, he drew back his arm and threw the fin out as far into the waves as he could.

Next to him, Flint shook his head. “Thank god you’re pretty.”

~~~

The sun was setting over the water, when Silver caught Billy Bones approaching him out of the corner of his eye. He’d steered clear of the bo’sun’s way, since the unexpected outburst in the storm left Silver feeling confused and betrayed. He gave the towering giant a cautious look and was greeted with a sheepish one of Billy’s own, as he lowered himself upon the sand.

“So,” the tall one spoke.

“So?” Silver fidgeted where he sat, wishing his hair was suddenly longer so that he could use it to obscure his eyes better.

“It appears I owe you an apology.”

Now, Silver may not have been living among pirates for that long but he had watched them from afar long enough to know that they didn’t throw these “apologies” around like so many grains of sand.

“I thought you were pretty useless,” Billy continued and Silver opened his mouth to point out that he was pretty sure that wasn’t how apologies were supposed to go. “I thought you’d just beguiled the captain with your pert little arse and uncanny set of teeth.” Silver closed his mouth, silently bemoaning the lack of advances in biped dentistry. “But you’re more than meets the eye, Silver, I’ll give you that. And I haven’t forgotten that I owe you a great debt of gratitude.”

“Um…” Silver supposed this was the time he was expected to accept this bizarre apology. “So, you thought I beguiled the captain?” he asked weakly, instead. 

Billy laughed and shrugged his wide shoulders. “Evidently. He’s pretty gone on you.”

“Is that why you had called me a curly thief?” Silver ventured, releasing an inward sigh of relief that all that talk of “beguiling” did not lead immediately to “siren’s call.” An idea occurred to him that somehow had not occurred to him before. “Did you hope to ensnare the captain yourself?”

“Look, I’m trying to say that you’re all right, Silver! Don’t make me regret it or change my mind!” Billy flushed and rose from the sand, towering over the bewildered MerSir once more.

“It’s just that…” Silver paused, eyeing Billy uncertainly. “Well, I know that every man on this beach has a pretty vested interest in that gold over there, and I’m the reason we even got as far as to find it. So you’d have no reason to believe me when I say, your captain is worth more to me than all that Spanish gold.” He flushed and averted his eyes as he spoke.

“Don’t you mean _our_ captain?” Billy smiled, his body blocking out the last rays of the setting sun. “You’re part of the crew now, and don’t you forget it.”

His words left Silver strangely lighthearted; between that and their victory over the shark, by the time he reached the makeshift tent Flint had lashed together from fronds and sailcloth he was almost dancing, even despite the clunky peg.

Flint looked up at him with a smile, his lovely red hair a fiery crimson in the light of the sunset. "You seem happy."

"I'm quite happy, all things considered." Silver sank down next to him, finding the mat of dried grasses surprisingly comfortable. He started unlacing the clunky peg. "I'm one step closer to avenging my leg, I have the most beautiful man in existence at my side..."

"One step? I think you might want to call this a win and quit while you're ahead, little darling." Flint's arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

Silver pouted. "You don't think I could take any shark that threatened me?"

"You're very fierce," Flint said agreeably. His lips traced the line of his jaw as he spoke, free hand stroking up the inside of Silver's thigh. "But I don't want you to risk losing any other bits of your lovely self."

Silver hummed appreciatively, wiggling against Flint's hand to encourage the caress. "I would like to keep both my remaining legs," he agreed. "Anyway, as I was saying - I have the most beautiful man in existence at my side, and now I'm going to put my mouth on his cock."

Flint's eyebrows rose, though he looked far more amused than Silver had expected. "Oh you are, are you?"

Silver turned his face to return the nuzzle, licking his earlobe. "Should I not? You seem to take such pleasure in the act."

A shiver ran through Flint’s body, all the way from his head to his toes, and Silver felt the tremors under his fingertips. “I take great pleasure in giving you pleasure,” Flint hummed against his lips, body still vibrating like a string. The jewels of his eyes were radiant with unmistakable desire. “I must say, I don’t know that I’m willing to forgo it even right now.” Flint’s thumb traced across Silver’s chin and pressed against his lips. “Look at you. John. You are so beautiful. Out of this world beautiful.” 

“No, I assure you..,” Silver tried to protest that he was certainly _in_ this world (and a most normal human), but Flint slipped his thumb in between his teeth and kissed the corner of his mouth, effectively shutting him up. “Mmmm,” he added, letting his tongue circle the salty digit between his lips. If it felt this good sucking on Flint’s _thumb_ , he was definitely not going to waste anymore time on this discussion. His hand deftly reached out to paw at the flesh below the captain’s belt.

“God, you little minx,” Flint’s voice caressed his earlobe, “you’re driving me to the brink of madness.” His breath scalded Silver’s neck and then his teeth pressed into the tight flesh above his clavicle. 

“Let me taste you, James!” His fingers, as needy as his voice must have sounded, tugged at the stubborn lacing of Flint’s trousers.

“I have an idea,” Flint’s voice trickled sweetly into Silver’s ear, causing his third leg to give a by now predictable twitch. 

“Yes!” Silver intoned, eagerly.

“You don’t know what my idea is yet.” Flint kissed him on the earlobe with a soft chuckle.

“I have been a great fan of all your ideas so far, especially ones involving the removal of our clothes and skin-on-skin contact.”

Finally seeming to catch on, Flint aided Silver in shimmying his trousers down his thighs, pulling on Silver’s in turn. Flint’s hands and eyes caressed the exposed flesh with a searing hunger that made Silver flush and bite his lips around a soft, keening sound.

“We can taste each other,” Flint said, his hands pushing against Silver, to lay him down on the ground of the makeshift tent, while he dispatched Silver’s trousers into the corner. “If that’s what you want,” he added, his tongue darting out to lick at his parched lips.

“Fuck _yes_ , that’s what I want!” Silver knew there was a reason he was so fond of Flint: he was a true connoisseur of the art of human love-making. It was obviously a result of Flint’s ingenious brain, as well as years of practice that Silver refused to think about, lest he become consumed by jealousy of Flint’s lover long gone.

Flint’s cock stood forth, pointing right at Silver’s chin, heavy and proud, and wearing a halo of the same fire-red hair that seemed to pepper all of Flint’s beautiful pelt. And Silver felt his jaw drop open as his hand shot out to touch that wondrous, engorged member. He suspected he was probably also drooling, but _gods_ , that thing had been _inside him_ and it was glorious!

He wrapped his hand around Flint’s cock and gave it a few tentative pulls, while Flint’s breath hitched and he sank his teeth into his lower lip. Silver looked up to meet the captain’s eyes to see if his touch was as pleasurable as when Flint’s own hands had been on him before.

“God!” Flint gasped. “Look at you, how hungry you are for it.” His lips turned up into a playful smirk that Silver had come to crave. His hand pressed Silver back against the dried grass. “Let me start… follow my lead.”

Flint stretched out on the ground beside him, turning so that his hips were level with Silver's head. His mouth lapped hungrily at the bare skin of Silver's stomach below his shirt, kissing wet and hungry until he was nuzzling the base of Silver's cock. It might have been entirely distracting if Flint's gorgeous member hadn't been right in front of Silver’s face, the tip slick with arousal, just begging to be touched. 

Silver leaned closer, tongue darting out to lap at the tip. Salty like the sea, like his seed after he'd found pleasure. There was something particularly compelling about that taste, Silver decided as he licked him again. Perhaps it was the memory of the pleasure he'd found at Flint's hands and in his talented mouth. Perhaps it was the anticipation of more. Or perhaps it was the choked, needy groan that escaped Flint's lips when Silver licked at him, Flint’s breath teasing against Silver's hard cock in hot puffs as he lapped at him.

Silver stroked his fingers through the crimson hairs at the base of Flint's cock, watching them curl against his skin. He always enjoyed the way he could nearly feel the life thrumming in Flint's cock when he wrapped his hand around its girth; now he thought he might even be able to see it, pulsing with his heartbeat. Silver traced his tongue along the ridges of the head of his lover’s cock, entranced by the velvet softness of his skin and the hardness underneath. Curiously, he flicked the tip at the little stretched tight ridge of skin just under the head, repeating the motion as Flint's cock jerked in his grasp.

"Jesus Christ," Flint gasped, then filled his mouth with Silver's cock, drawing on him hungrily. His efforts were, Silver quickly discovered, filled with an enthusiasm and desperation that escalated the more he sucked at Flint himself, something that he certainly wanted to encourage. He would have remarked delightedly on this apparent win-win situation were he not so delightfully occupied with sucking at Flint's cock, pressing his tongue against the shaft as his lips slid down the length of him to meet his hand.

Even without the slick hunger of Flint's mouth on his cock or his groans vibrating through Silver’s body, this would still be a wonderful undertaking, Silver decided. He'd suspected as much, of course, from how much pleasure Flint took from the act. Having his mouth full of Flint-cock was almost as delightful as having said magnificence in his ass, the hardness of Flint's shaft rubbing slick over his lips and against his tongue. There was something powerful about being in control of Flint's pleasure, and simultaneously worshipful, like nothing in the world was more important than pleasing him.

He stroked his free hand down Flint's side and over his cheek, curling his fingers in his hair. It was something that always encouraged Flint, and seemed to even more now. Flint groaned, throat tight around his cock as he swallowed around him, fingers kneading Silver's ass. He pressed the length of one finger between Silver's ass cheeks, rubbing against him, leaving Silver gasping and uncertain of whether to rock deeper into his mouth or press back against the tease of penetration. He moved his hand up from the base of Flint's cock to cradle his balls, rubbing his fingers against the soft, sensitive skin, satisfied at the choked, needy moan that vibrated from Flint's throat, around his own cock.

Silver felt completely intoxicated, caught in this loop of pleasure given and received. Flint's fingertip pressed into him, massaging him slowly and delightfully, and Silver began to feel the now-familiar crest of his pleasure tease at his nerves, threatening to sweep him away. Would Flint enjoy having Silver's fingers inside him, he couldn't help but wonder? He pressed his fingers curiously against the soft skin behind Flint’s balls, rubbing gently. He didn't expect the way it would make Flint's hips jerk, bucking helplessly into his mouth. Suddenly Silver's mouth was filled with sea-salt, thick and hot, and though he half choked in surprise, the press of Flint's fingers and his muffled cry of pleasure was enough to draw him up the peaking wave of pleasure, crashing and tumbling into orgasm with him.

Silver pulled back from Flint’s cock, trying to catch his breath and continue to lick him at the same time. He carded his fingers through Flint's hair, the ecstasy of orgasm fading into a warm sense of satisfaction and delight. Laughing softly, he nuzzled the damp curls circling Flint's cock, pressing a kiss to the base. "Mine."

Flint chuckled, breath hot against Silver's thigh. "Oh it is, is it?"

Silver drew his tongue up the length in answer, smirking as Flint shuddered, as another few drops of come dripped from the head of his cock. He licked them up. "Yes. And I'm going to do this again."

"I suppose I could be agreeable to that." Grinning, Flint moved, turning to find Silver's mouth with his own. "Since you seem to be so thirsty for it."

Silver briefly thought of arguing that if he was thirsty, Flint must be doubly so. But he was satisfied just to melt into Flint's kisses, letting Flint pull him into the warm strength of his arms where he was happy to drift off to sleep.

~~~


	14. Eric to the Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help comes from an unexpected direction. (Well, to _them_ anyways.)

_words_  
_like mysterious mermaids_  
_come and live permanently_  
_in the soft sweeps_  
_and scars of my skin._  
― Sanober Khan

~~~

Flint was still asleep when Silver came back to the tent after his morning swim, his hair dripping wetly over the sand. It was cheating to avail himself of the sea’s nutrients when the starving crew could not reap their benefits, and if he hadn’t already been feeling guilty enough, the side-eye from Betsy when he climbed back onto the sand and pulled his peg leg back on spoke volumes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Silver hissed at the land crab. “Here, have a muscle!” And he threw one of the molluscs onto the sand before Randall’s furry companion. She ran off with it like the selfish creature she was.

He had deposited the rest with Randall, prior to making his way back to the tent, where he found his lover in peaceful repose that he had no wish to stir. Instead, he traced Flint’s mouth with the tips of his fingers, wondering at the lines of it, the soft swell of his lips, even in inhospitable conditions. That beautiful, generous mouth which had given him such pleasure. If Mers could drown, he would gladly do so in Flint’s mouth.

He needed to be kissing Flint. _Now_. Silver leaned over and brushed his lips over Flint’s, breathing in the acrid, human smell of his breath, tasting the phantom of his own essence on Flint’s tongue.

“Mmmm… you’re wet…” Flint murmured, opening one eye and wrapping his arms around Silver.

“I found something you can eat,” Silver whispered, letting his body sink into the firm hold of Flint’s embrace.

“Tell me you didn’t go shark hunting without me.” Flint cast a worried look over Silver’s body, checking him for new injuries.

“I wouldn’t,” Silver grinned. “That is a romantic activity I reserve only for your company.”

“Minx,” Flint breathed, kissing Silver again, allowing his tongue to stroke languidly over his lips, his teeth, the roof of his mouth. His hand slid down to cup Silver's rump, making a low, disgruntled noise as he encountered Silver's sodden trousers. "Wet. Get them off."

Silver chuckled, tugging at the wet fabric. "Don't you think there's other things you should be worried about right now? The rations are gone, we have no way to get the gold off that beach...."

Flint cut him off with a firm kiss. His hand slid down Silver's stomach to caress the newly bared skin above his cock. "Are you complaining?"

"N-no, just - remarking, just..." He wiggled his hips up against Flint's fingers, trying to encourage him to stroke lower. "... it's nothing important."

“Has anyone seen… Oh.” The smoke-roughened voice of their intruder could belong to no other than Charles Vane.

“ _What_?!” Flint exploded.

“My shirt?”

“No one has seen your shirt since the goddamn Bronze Age!” If Flint could murder a fellow Nassau captain with impunity, he would. But Eleanor would have his balls, he reminded himself, if they actually survived. “And why the hell would you be looking for it here?”

“I thought the bloody cat might have dragged it in. She’s a damn thief you know.”

“I’ll have her keelhauled,” Flint snarled, waving Vane away. “Now get the fuck out!”

Vane's eyes narrowed. "Don't you think, _Captain_ , that you should be thinking about something other than getting your dick wet? Last I checked there's a mountain of Spanish gold on that beach, and you've yet to provide us a way to get it - or ourselves - back to Nassau."

Flint glared at Silver, as if daring him to agree. His lover merely gave him one of his familiar, brilliant grins, gleaming with innocence.

But before Flint was obliged to throttle anyone a cry went up from the beach. "Sails!"

 _A ship._ Flint grabbed for his sword belt and was out of the tent without waiting for his companions to follow in various stages of undress. He snatched the spyglass from Gates, finding the spot of white on the horizon, straining to identify her. Was it the Spanish, chasing their treasure ship? Or...

"She's not flying any colours, Captain," Gates said beside him. "Which means..."

"Pirates." Flint thrust the spyglass back at him, turning to Silver as he joined them, pulling a shirt on over his head. "Who else did you tell about the _Urca_?"

The damn kid looked like a kicked puppy at the accusation. "No one! Who else would I tell other than you?"

"Then someone must have overheard us! How the hell else would they know about the gold?"

Beside Gates, Billy lowered the spyglass. "Who the fuck captains the _Colonial Dawn_?"

"I don't really give a fuck," Flint replied, then raised his voice. "To arms! I want every able-bodied man over the ridge and on that beach! We defend that gold or die trying!"

~~~

Whether or not Silver was included in the call for men _able-bodied_ , he made tracks over the ridge, falling in line with the others as they gathered the treasure and begun to drag it back off of the beach, hopefully out of range of the guns of whatever ship thought it could take his hard-won treasure. Before their untimely deaths, the Spanish had been kind enough to recover a handful of their cannons from the sea, which more of the men set to loading, positioning on the beach under Flint's orders.

"You shouldn't be here," Flint growled at him, catching his arm in passing. "I can't protect you _and_ the gold."

"I can protect myself," Silver insisted, trying not to feel irritated at Flint's lack of faith. "I killed that shark, didn't I?"

"It's not like killing a shark. Or taking a prize. You don't even have a sword!"

Silver retreated back to claim an abandoned Spanish sword belt, trying not to think about the fate of its previous owner. He drew the blade, checking the balance. It wasn't nearly as light or fine as the mer-blades forged from magma heat deep in the trenches of the sea, but it would do. "Try me."

"Fine," Flint snapped back. "But stay behind the treeline with the gold. And don't blame me if you lose another limb!"

The _Colonial Dawn_ sailed into the cove almost leisurely, dropping the remainder of her sails as it turned about to point a full barrage of cannons at them. Silver, crouched behind a Spanish chest in the trees, braced himself for the worst. Then, after several long moments of tension so thick the air faintly vibrated with them a longboat appeared from the other side of the ship, flying a white flag.

"Stand your ground but hold your fire!" he heard Flint yell to the men on the beach. Then, as the longboat drew nearer, Silver caught sight of a flash of sun off a curtain of fiery hair and betrayal pierced him to the bone.

He strode forward towards the water as the longboat ran aground on the sand. A half dozen men hopped out into the surf, with one red-haired spitfire of a woman who was undoubtedly his sister's newest flame. _Max_. How could she betray him like this? Being at odds with the rest of his kind was bad enough, but _his own dear sister?_

The red-haired woman moved behind the group's leader like a shadow - the other brothel owner, Silver recognized - as he approached the point where Flint and Vane stood just behind the cannons. He gave them a wide smile. "Glad to see the sea hasn't claimed you yet, Captains."

"Fuck you, Jack," Vane growled, spitting onto the sand near their feet.

"Come now, Captain. Is that any way to greet your rescuer?"

"Rescuer?" Flint's hand gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, taking a step forward. "Don't pretend you're here to help us.”

Jack took a nervous half-step backwards. "Now, Flint - "

"You're here for the gold and nothing more. And since your ship can't come within range of the beach, you're here to talk us into giving up our advantage. If you want this gold you're going to have to pry it from our cold, dead hands, Rackham. But we'll pick off your longboats long before you can land men on this beach, I promise you that."

Jack's eyes narrowed, fingers twitching near the hilt of his own sword. Anne grabbed hers openly, with none of his subtlety, only a sharp look from Jack keeping it sheathed. Jack stepped forward again, lowering his voice so that Silver had to move closer to hear.

"Look. I may be new to command but I'm not an imbecile that's going to take your posturing at face value. I don't want this to come to bloodshed, and neither do you. Your men are half-starved and dehydrated, and even if you do finish repairs on that battered mass of a ship on the other side of that ridge you might not have enough men left to sail her, let alone haul all of that gold back to Nassau."

"Doesn't mean we're going to let you take it," Flint growled.

"For godsakes, I'm not going to _take_ it!" Jack threw up his hands. "Look. You sailed out with two ships to take this prize, right? Now you're down to one. Give the _Ranger_ 's share to the _Colonial Dawn_. We're freshly provisioned. We'll come ashore, help repair the _Walrus_ , and take the gold back to Nassau _together._ "

Flint glanced to Vane, face hard. Vane, bare abs glistening in the sun, regarded Jack through narrowed eyes. "Much as I'm loathe to admit it, he does have a point."

"Well, thank you very much for the vote of confidence." Jack's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Flint's body shifted, relaxing ever so slightly. "And how do we know you won't turn on us the moment you're on that beach?"

"Apart from the fact that we can't possibly haul all that gold back on our own? You don't. But look at it this way, Captains... what choice do you have?"

~~~

It was difficult to storm into a place when you were operating minus one lower appendage. They didn’t call the humans “bipeds” for nothing: it implied _two_ , didn’t it? Nevertheless, Silver puffed out his chest, girded his somewhat newly acquired loins, and pushed open the brothel door with as much bravado as he could muster.

“I wish to speak to your Madam!” he pronounced to the first whore who approached him.

“Hey there, Long John,” the girl winked. He had recognized her from before. Bright blue eyes, heaving bosoms, shiny black hair that would not have looked out of place on a mermaid.

“Idelle, is it?”

“You remembered,” she purred into his ear.

“Fetch Max for me, _please_.”

“Sure thing, handsome.” Her finger stroked alongside his chin and then she ascended the staircase, walking like all eyes were on her. 

Silver took a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm his nerves. He had been surly the entire way back to Nassau, his favorite sibling’s betrayal stinging him to the core more than he could express. Flint had fussed over him, but Silver found himself unable to eloquently convey what precisely was bothering him, so he figured it was easier to let Flint think it was having to split their share with the _Colonial Dawn_.

At last, Max’s distinctive head of curls appeared at the top of the landing and she swooped down to meet him, eyes aglow and a smile curled in the corner of her mouth.

“Maxilla!”

“Silverfin?”

“Let’s talk in there!” He motioned with his head towards a private room, which Max unlocked with one of her many keys.

“Is this any way to greet your sister who has now saved you from death by starvation?”

“You know very well that I would not have starved out on that beach! How could you do it? You knew I had intended that treasure for James… Captain Flint, I mean!”

“You ungrateful shit!” she veered on him. “Does your selfish, curly poodle head only think about yourself and your own needs? If Jack and Anne hadn’t gone out there, eventually your beloved Captain Flint and his crew would have perished. And besides,” she continued mercilessly, “this was never about treasure for you! You used it as an excuse to get close to Flint and now you have him wrapped around your fin… finger! What about _me_ and my needs, huh? Have you ever stopped to think about the life I can build for myself with a small portion of that money? I can finally be free!”

“You are already free!” he insisted.

“You’re a fool, Silverfin. You can return to the waters whenever you get tired of playing pirate in Nassau. I am stuck here, like this,” she pointed to where her dress doubtless hid the bumpy knee-things, “forever!”

“I would have shared my gold with you, Max! That was always my plan. It was meant as much for you as for Flint!”

“Oh.”

For a moment, the siblings looked agape at each other without either one of them speaking, before simultaneously exclaiming, “I’m sorry!”

“No, I’m sorry,” Silver cut in. “Max, I should have just told you.”

“I should have told you my plan as well!”

“But you’re right: it did work out in the end for the best,” Silver admitted.

“Only because you somehow convinced the sharks to eat Charles Vane’s entire crew,” Max pointed out with a smile.

“It was merely a suggestion,” Silver blushed. “But why do you say you cannot ever return to the waters, sister? I thought you and that red-headed vixen were all but weaving pearl crowns for each other.”

“Humans do not weave pearl crowns for their intended, mon cher,” Max sighed and looked out the window towards the beach. “I have such emotions in my heart for Anne, but True Love? I do not think she loves me that way. I think that had been Mami Wata’s cruel joke all along. The bipeds aren’t capable of it.”

“Are you saying,” a stone rose up in Silver’s throat, not letting him continue on with the horrible thought. “Are you saying... that Flint will never love me the way I love him?” 

There was something in Max’s eyes that Silver did not quite like. Pity, perhaps. As if she had been waiting this whole time for him to learn some lesson that this cruel world was planning to teach him.

“No, mon cher,” she tried to protest, but her words sounded hollow to his finely tuned ears.

“I’ll prove you wrong, Max! I’ll prove them all wrong!”

It turned out that storming out of a place was just as difficult as storming into it, minus a functioning biped appendage. But Silver sure as hell did his best.

~~~


	15. Under the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interspecies relationships are very trying.

_...when a storm was coming on, and they anticipated that a ship might sink, they swam before it, and sang most sweetly of the delight to be found beneath the water, begging the seafarers not to be afraid of coming down below._  
                                                                                          ― Hans Christian Andersen

~~~

Bipeds aren't capable of love, Max reminded herself firmly as the last of the sun faded away. The brothel was as busy as it always was, but it failed to take her mind off of the words she and Silver had shared earlier. She was right, and allowing herself to think otherwise was just setting herself up for more heartache. Just like...

No. Memories of Eleanor had no place in her mind, not now. Not when Anne's smile was so kind. Max simply needed to accept what she had and find what happiness she could in it.

She glanced across the room to where Anne sat at a table with Jack and the roly-poly first mate of the _Colonial Dawn_ , both men becoming quickly flushed with celebratory rum. Idelle hung off of - what was his name again? Featherstone? - like the sun shone out his asshole and, whether her adoration was real or merely her expert plying of the trade, he seemed every inch as besotted with her.

Anne, though... the softness in her eyes when she looked at Jack was real. It was too guarded to be an act, and from what little she knew of them, there was no reason for it to be. Jack had rescued Anne when she had nothing, and placed no expectations on her, given her a kind of freedom most female bipeds would never know. Of course her loyalty would always be to him.

Jack said something, sending the table into peals of laughter, and Max tried to ignore the way her heart twisted when Anne smiled at him. She turned her back, catching up a cloth, and set to polishing the bar with furious fervor.

Anne wasn't in love with her, and she certainly wasn't in love with Anne, she told herself firmly. What did it matter if she ended up sleeping alone?

She forced herself to focus on work. Pour the drinks, take payment from the girls. Don't think about Anne. Then someone pressed up against her back, slender arms slipping around her waist, and Max gave a yelp of surprise.

Anne chuckled in her ear, breath spiced with rum. "You're working too hard. Come upstairs. Take a rest. We 'ave money to spare."

Max leaned back into her embrace despite herself. "Won't Jack notice your absence?"

Anne chuckled, hands stroking lower on her waist, warm through the rigid bodice. "He's already there waiting, ain't he?"

For a moment, Max didn't know how to reply. At her silence, Anne pulled back, stepping around to look at her. Her voice was quiet and serious. "Don't 'ave to come if you don't want to. But... he's important to me. So I wanted to share that with you. If you like." Her pretty lips twisted as she glanced away, and the bright playfulness that Max had worked so hard to bring out of her started to fade into her old insecurity. "If you don't..."

Max leaned in to kiss away her words softly. "Of course I'll come," she murmured, trying to ignore the way her heart fluttered in her chest. She was doing this because Anne wanted it, she told herself firmly. The offer to share another part of Anne's life didn't mean anything at all.

Anne's eyes lifted back to hers, shining brighter than the sea, and she caught Max's hand with her own and started for the stairs.

~~~

Flint had spent the day overseeing the transport of the gold to the Nassau fort, trusting neither Rackham nor Vane to preside over the distribution of it. Haggling over the details had been exhausting, but he did somehow convince them to sequester a portion of the gold for the city’s defenses in anticipation of the inevitable arrival of the British.

“Nassau is saved,” Eleanor had said, clasping Flint to her chest. He was certain a part of this jubilant reception was also due to the fact that along with Nassau, her favorite pirate captain had also been delivered back to her in one piece.

As to the rest, well, they were all rich men and women now. So why was it that Flint didn’t feel happy? He glowered at the crew, hissed at the cat, and kicked several empty bottles of rum, until he finally settled back down in his cabin and forbade Gates to permit anyone to disturb him. Except Silver.

“And where is Mr. Silver?”

“Billy says last he saw him, he was headed for the brothel.”

“Typical,” Flint had wrinkled his nose. His temples throbbed. He waved Gates out of his cabin and collapsed onto his cot.

He was exhausted. He suspected if he had only allowed himself to close his eyes, he’d descend into a deep sleep from which the very war with England wouldn’t be able to rouse him. He wished Silver had been there and not banging some three to five whores at the same time with his newly acquired treasure. But he’d known, didn’t he, that this would happen. That as soon as the gold was theirs, the little arrangement they had fallen into would be over. And he was a fool, for allowing himself to be _soft_ , for allowing himself to feel something again.

The door to his cabin slammed open and a distinctive drag and drop of an artificial leg brought Flint out of his reverie of self-loathing.

“Tell me this wasn’t just about the gold to you!” Silver all but shouted.

The bridge of Flint’s nose hurt. “You should talk,” he growled in response. “How many different flavors of cunt am I going to smell on you if you come closer?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Couldn’t wait to get ashore, could you?” Flint continued throwing accusations. “The entire way back here, you were crawling out of your skin. What - couldn’t wait to be rid of me? So surly the whole time that we had to share the haul with the god damn crew of the _Colonial Dawn_?”

“You’re out of your mind!” Silver had the gall to proclaim. “If I seemed preoccupied on our way back to Nassau, it wasn’t because of the gold! Well, indirectly… it was. But not the way you think!”

“Sure, sure, nothing is the way I think!”

“And what of you? You’ve barely touched me since we left Phallandia!”

“Where?”

“All you ever talk about is securing the gold, and protecting the gold, and sequestering the gold, and what to spend the fucking gold on! I betrayed my family for you! _You will account for me!_ ”

Flint had risen and stood nose to nose with Silver. His hair had grown so long, it suddenly struck him, and Flint wanted very much to shut the beautiful idiot up with his own mouth and to feel his fingers tangle in those long, wind-swept curls.

“What were you doing in the brothel?” Flint hissed, fighting down his weaker urges.

“I needed to speak to the Madam.”

“What business could you possibly have with _her_?”

“I…” Silver avoided his eyes. Was she the one he had been fucking? “I can’t explain it to you, but I assure you, there was a very valid and utterly innocent reason.”

“How can I trust you when you won’t tell me the truth?” Flint ground his teeth together. If he could set Silver on fire with looks alone, he’d be a cinder at his feet.

“How can you _not_ trust me?” Silver’s impossibly blue eyes grew large and he took a step back. “After everything we’ve been through? My gods… Max had been right! You are incapable of the same kind of love that I am!”

~~~

Silver couldn’t believe the conversation they were having. How could James, whom he had loved beyond reason before he even knew his given name, how could _his_ James have so little faith in him? In them!

“Fine then! If you believe I’m such a waste of your time, go on! You know where the longboat is! I should have known you’d bail as soon as this treasure hunt was over!”

_Sil-ver-fin… Sil-ver-fin_

The storm windows had been open and a cool night breeze from the sea flew on gentle wings into the cabin and ruffled Silver’s long hair.

“No,” he said outloud. “This cannot be.” He took a step towards Flint and placed his hand over his lover's heart. “I left my family for you. I gave up my fins for you. I left my home for you. I cut off my _hair_ for you! What more must I give up for you to see that I truly love you, James?”

_Come home, Silverfin! Come home!_

“What are you talking about, you utterly inexplicable man!”

“I’m not a man!” Silver uttered and clasped his hand over his own mouth, horrified at his own words.

“Well, you’re certainly not a woman,” Flint smirked. “I’ve checked.”

“Listen, James…”

_Be quiet, Silverfin! Come home, Silverfin!_

“The reason that I don’t have a tan below my waist is because normally, when I’m at home, I have a fishtail and fins there instead of the three legs you bipeds have.”

“What?” A deep crease formed between Flint’s eyebrows. “Are you actually telling me you’re a bloody mermaid?”

“Not a mermaid. A MerSir! But yes.”

Flint laughed and Silver’s blood boiled.

“I’ve heard of a lot of men give a lot of pathetic excuses to leave their lover, but darling, this one takes them all!” Flint paused, panting and clutching his own side. “You’re even more mad than everyone thinks you are!”

_NOW, SILVERFIN!_

Silver’s limbs were suddenly heavy and foreign. Flint’s laughter resounded in his ears like peals of thunder. He felt caught in a fisherman’s net, struggling to breathe, a fish out of water. Damaged. Broken.

“You don’t trust me,” he whispered. “You don’t believe me. So be it.” He dragged himself over to the storm windows, each step feeling heavier and more painful than the previous, as if the air itself could not wait to be rid of him. “Goodbye, James. Remember that I loved you.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Flint responded, avoiding meeting his eyes and already reaching for a bottle of rum.

Silver narrowed his eyes upon the liquor, a memory flashing across the recesses of his mind.

“It was I, you know, who pulled you from the oceanic grave that night you tried to drown yourself because you were so heart-sick over _Thomas_.” Flint’s hand trembled and he placed the bottle down onto his desk. “And it was I who pulled you from shark-infested waters when the _Walrus_ was shipwrecked in the storm. I suppose next time you’re drowning, there won’t be anyone out there to save you.”

And with those parting words, he slipped over the windowsill, and down into the waiting waves below.

_Silverfin is home! Silverfin is home!_

The last thing Silverfin hoped Flint saw as he swam away was the parting wave of his magnificent tail and the floating, discarded buoy of his peg leg.

~~~

 _Jesus Christ!_ Flint thought to himself as he leaned out the storm windows, staring down into the black waves below. It had been a reflection of the moonlight off the waves, hadn't it? Or some large, slender fish that just happened to have been floundering near the surface when Silver dove in.

Except he'd seen the familiar lines of Silver's shoulders in the water, seen the way he moved with that strange fishtail following. The two parts undoubtedly made a whole, diving down into the depths of the ocean with ease and a grace unfettered by the rough-hewn stump of a fake leg that floated sadly in Silver's wake.

 _He's a mermaid,_ Flint thought, staggering back to his desk and sitting down weakly. He pulled the stopper from the bottle of rum and drank deeply, his head already spinning before the liquor was even past his lips. The idea was completely impossible, and yet the more he thought about it, the more things seemed to slot into place. The strange little things that he'd written off as Silver's weird idiosyncrasies now revealed themselves as blatant tells, enough that he began to feel foolish for not realizing the truth of things earlier.

But who the fuck thought that mermaids were actually real? Let alone masquerading as humans? And what the hell gave him reason to be here, anyway? The thought of giving up what must be an idyllic existence under the ocean to deal with the harsh folly of mankind was unthinkable.

_What more must I give up for you to see that I truly love you, James?_

_He did it for you,_ Flint thought to himself, and tried to drown his terrible realization in the rum.

_He did it for you, and you pushed him away._


	16. Wedding Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flint gets a little help in formulating his next steps.

_I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me._  
\- T.S. Eliot

~~~

“Are you ever planning on going out there again?” Miranda’s voice was kind, as was her hand that lay gently on Flint’s shoulder, and yet, he could detect the exasperation in it. “You can’t hide here forever, James.”

“Mmm,” was the only response he felt up to giving.

“You have what you’ve always wanted,” Miranda continued. “All that gold to fight the war with England?” Her fingers squeezed around his shoulder, making him acutely aware of the tension he’d been holding there for days. Since Silver left. Or whatever the hell that damn fish’s real name was because it sure as shit wasn’t “John Silver”! Bile rose up in Flint’s gullet. “Perhaps,” Miranda continued in those same patient tones that she had adopted with him most of the time, as if talking to an intransigent child, “that isn’t what you’ve always wanted after all. Perhaps what you wanted is what you did not know you had till it was gone?”

“Don’t talk to me about the mer-creature!”

“I didn’t mention him, James.”

“You meant him and you damn well know!” He cast a rageful look upon the traitor, but immediately felt overcome with shame and buried his face in the folds of her dress, his cheek pressed into her belly. “Forgive me,” he muttered.

“There is nothing to forgive. You fell in love. Surely, there is no shame in that?”

“All along, I thought he was an idiot, that he was somehow not of this world, I had no idea how right I had been the entire time,” Flint sighed, enjoyed the caress of Miranda’s fingers in his hair. It was a caress he certainly did not deserve. How did he always manage to ruin everything? “I’m so angry at him for lying to me this whole time,” he continued. “And at myself for not being satisfied with what I had and expecting the worst. But I… how could I have anticipated _a fishtail_???”

“And how could he tell you the truth about that? You would have either dismissed him for a lunatic or exposed his entire species to predation!”

“I nearly dismissed him for a lunatic anyways,” Flint mumbled, entirely unhelpfully.

“James!” She tilted his face up by his chin, her thumb stroking over the point of his beard as if by that movement to instill some sense into him. “Are you not listening to me at all? You love him! And I believe it was more than obvious he loved you very much: he left his home and his people for you!”

“What are you saying, Miranda?”

“What I’m saying, my purposefully daft friend, is you should fight for him! Go after him! Find him again!”

“And where do I look, pray tell? The entire wide ocean?”

With a sigh, Miranda pulled up a chair and sat next to him, her hands taking a hold of his.

“Has it occurred to you that if one of them can come on land that it’s very likely there are others living among us at this very moment?”

“Mermaids masquerading as humans?”

“Is it so hard to believe after all you’ve seen? Such an ally could help you locate Silver again, facilitate a meeting between the two of you.”

“No, but… how would I go about locating one? They could be anyone! I can’t very well have the entire island walk the plank!” He paused. “Actually…”

“Think, James! What was the one thing Silver was always obsessing about?”

“His huge cock?”

“Not _you_ \- he!”

“Um… his hair?”

“That’s right, his hair! I remember you telling me that he kept going on about his hair even though you were convinced his best feature was his... eyes.”

“He does have such beautiful eyes,” Flint sighed. “They change colors with the tides… God _damn_ , I was an imbecile!”

“Right, so…” Miranda gave Flint another hard look, as if waiting to see if he’d come to the logical conclusion on his own. With a sigh at his obstinacy, she went on, “So you start with whomever has the most beautiful hair in Nassau!”

“You?”

“For god’s sake, James! Not _I_! Although I thank you,” she laughed, squeezing his hand.

“I don’t know anything about hair!” Flint exploded in a panic. “I’m a pirate, not a hairdresser, Miranda! You must come with me into town, or else I’m going to execute Plan A.”

“Which one was Plan A?”

“Making everyone walk the plank!”

Miranda quickly rose. “I’ll get my hat.”

~~~

Could there really be more mermaids in Nassau? Flint wondered as they made their way into town. For what purpose? To steal away with human riches? If that were the case, he was certain that far more treasure had been lost to the sea than it would be possible to steal from land.

People with beautiful hair, Miranda had said. Most of the pirates in Nassau had hair as scraggly and unkempt as they were - if they had hair at all. Vane, perhaps? It would explain how he'd miraculously escaped the same fate as his crew, though not, perhaps, the missing trousers.

"Was there anyone in Nassau he mentioned?" Miranda asked as they made their way up the street. Flint forced himself not to step closer, glaring at some disheveled, toothless cretin who had the audacity to look at her.

"James?"

"Huh?"

"I asked if there was any place he frequented," Miranda said again, a little more slowly. "Surely you must recall something?"

Flint frowned, glaring at another dirty pirate. "The whores called him Long John. That's where he was before we fought." Come to think of it, Silver had mentioned that there was some mysterious but legitimate reason he'd been there. But why would a mermaid stoop to being a common whore?

"Then that is where we shall start," Miranda decided. "Lead the way."

It was still early in the day, early enough that the brothel was fairly quiet - only a few men seeking the hair of the dog. Flint stopped in the doorway and surveyed the room, frowning. How the hell was he supposed to know which of them - if any - might have started life half-covered in scales?

At the back, Anne Bonny sat with her boots up on a chair, hat pulled down over her face. He caught a glimpse of a glint of green, though, and there was no question that she was fiercely aware of the room from behind her curtain of red hair. Wait... rather pretty red hair. He squinted at her. How had Rackham picked her up again? He tried to picture Anne in a seashell brasier and a fishtail, snarling at shipwrecked sailors. It wasn't a particularly reassuring image.

"Well good morning to you, Captain Flint. Who's your lovely lady friend?" One of the brothel's whores sidled up to Miranda, her bodice so tight that her ample bosoms looked about ready to spill over the top. Idelle, he believed he heard Rackham call her. She gave Miranda a wink. "You know, we have a two-for-one special when it comes to pretty lady friends. Care to take a load off, Captain?"

Flint opened his mouth, then closed it again. She had very pretty hair as well, the long black curtain spilling over ivory shoulders. Maybe she was the one Silver had been coming to see? "Are you..." he started, then stopped, well aware of how daft he was about to sound. Asking some whore if she was really a mythical creature in disguise?

"I'm afraid we're only here looking for Mr. Silver," Miranda said smoothly, unruffled by the whore's advances. "I don't suppose you could tell us if anyone here has seen him? Or spent much time with him?"

"Oh, Long John?" Idelle winked. "He hasn't been 'round here for a few days, more's the pity. But I could ask the Madam. Come have a seat and I'll go fetch her."

She took them to the table by the side - still under Anne's watchful eye, Flint couldn't help but notice. He watched the whore as she walked. Had she had those legs her entire life?

She turned, smirking as she caught his gaze. "Sure you don't want to go somewhere else, Captain?"

Flint paused, then leaned in close. "Listen to me. Are you... are you a mermaid?"

Idelle's eyebrows rose. Then she gave Flint a playful smile. "Now that's one I haven't heard before. But with the kind of coin your boys just brought in, Captain, I'll be whatever you want me to be."

"Please fetch the Madam, if you will," Miranda said kindly, though Flint could see her smile strain. "Thank you."

Flint pulled out a chair for Miranda, then dropped into one himself, frowning a perpetual frown. He caught sight of the look she was giving him. "What?"

"You might wish to employ a little more subtlety, dear," she said under her breath. "You can't just go around asking..."

"What else am I supposed to do? Give them the water bucket test?"

Miranda gave a pained sigh, shaking her head. "You can't drown half the whores in Nassau," she hissed under her breath. "You'll just have to - "

Then, hearing steps on the staircase, Flint looked up. Idelle had reappeared, followed by... He lunged across the table to grab Miranda's arm. "Hair!" he hissed excitedly. "Miranda, her hair!!"

"Yes, I _see,_ " she hissed back, shaking off his hand. "Pull yourself together!"

Max pushed past Idelle as she reached the bottom of the stairs, storming across the floor. Flint stood up excitedly. "Are you - " he started, only to have Miranda's hand clamp down over his mouth.

"Are you free to speak privately?" she asked, smiling brightly.

"I have nothing to say to this man," Max said, glaring.

Flint looked at the brazen upstart, as if truly seeing her for the first time. Those bright eyes, those lips that were at once too large and too soft, her dress that appeared to shimmer like a wave around her hips, those soft tresses that fell in cascading waves around her shoulders.

_Max had been right!_ Silver had said. _You are incapable of the same kind of love that I am!_

She _knew_.

"I can understand why you must be very angry," Miranda said softly. "You have every right to be. But the captain came here to try and make amends. Could we please beg a moment of your time?"

Max regarded them for a long moment, frowning. In the corner, out of Flint's line of vision, Anne Bonny had placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. Thankfully Max gave a terse nod, stepping back. "Fine. Come with me." She turned for the stairs again, lifting a hand to placate Anne as she began to rise from her seat. The redhead looked displeased, but sat down again.

Max took them into one of the rooms, still frowning as she turned to face them, arms folded across her chest. "Alright, speak. But if you are looking for Silver, you will not find him here."

The short climb up the stairs appeared to have cleared Flint’s head somewhat and now that he found himself face to face with this woman whom he had thought to be his rival, his strategic instincts had returned to the fore.

“Before we say anything else to each other,” he began, “the… secret… which we are about to discuss is too dangerous to be spoken of without certain… assurances?”

“What are you asking me?” Max scowled without uncrossing her arms.

Flint cast Miranda a desperate look.

“How well do you know, Mr. Silver?” Miranda asked cautiously, placing a hand upon Flint’s arm to prevent anymore inopportune outbursts.

“Well enough,” Max shrugged. “He is my brother.”

“You’re a mermaid!” Flint exclaimed.

“ _Jesus!_ ” both women intoned, glaring at him.

"But you have the hair!" Flint pressed a palm to his forehead. "Look. I know I've been a right idiot. But I didn't know he was a mermaid!"

"A MerSir."

"What?"

"A MerSir," Max repeated again, crossly. "Would you like someone to call you Lady Flint? And while we’re on the subject, ‘mermaid’ is what the bipeds call us. I prefer LadyMer."

"I apologize," Flint replied helplessly. "Of course. LadyMer. Look... I need to make things right and you're the only mer...person who can help me. I'll pay you whatever you ask for. Just... " He looked at her with desperation. "Please, I just need to speak to him again, to explain myself better."

Max's eyes narrowed slightly, contemplatively. "Anything I ask for?"

"Within his power, of course," Miranda replied.

"Even your share of the _Urca_ gold?"

Flint bit back the immediate denial. He wouldn't have anything at all, if it wasn't for Silver. He lowered his head. "...If that's what you want."

"Lucky for you, it is not," Max replied. "I will take you to Silver, and in return you will owe me something much more valuable: a favor, of my choosing, at any time."

Flint winced; given what Max had built around her, he had the distinct impression that it would have been easier just to give her his gold. "A favor of your choosing," he agreed. "At any time."

"Alright, then. Come with me."

Flint followed her from the room. "Where are we going?"

"To your ship, Captain. We will need one of your longboats, once we have seen your lady friend safely home." She looked to Anne, who had risen again from her spot in the corner, as she reached the bottom of the stairs, crossing the room.

"Is he giving you trouble?" Anne asked, casting fierce glances at Flint.

"No trouble," Max replied, smiling at her with surprising gentleness. "We'll be back no later than sundown."

"You're going with him?" Anne's fingers twitched near the hilt of her sword. "I'm going with you."

Flint expected the girl to balk - instead she actually smiled. "I'll be alright," she promised. "I'll be back soon."

"And so will I. I'm going with you." Anne turned her glare back to Flint. "I don't trust him any farther than I can throw him. Which ain’t far. If he wants to take you anywhere, he's taking me, too."

"I can assure you - " Flint started, but Max shook her head.

"Alright," Max said, and turned for the door, the little smile on her lips almost making Flint forget the angry, wily woman he'd spoken to minutes prior.

_Fish people!_ he thought. Whatever. As long as she took him to Silver.

~~~


	17. Happy Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone gets their just deserts.

“When you kiss a Mer-male, does it taste like fish?”  
― Nadine Christian, Discovering Daniel

~~~

 

Inside his grotto, Silverfin looked into his tarnished, old mirror, beheld his luxurious long tresses, and sighed. He cast his eyes around his dwelling, where each nook and cranny stood filled with coffers, each one containing treasures that would have provided a biped with a life of riches beyond their wildest dreams, and sighed again. What use was all this personal beauty and all this treasure if he had no one to share it with?

When he had been with James, poor though he was, he felt himself as wealthy as a King. A single touch made him feel all-powerful even though he had been missing a limb. A single look made him feel sated when he hungered. A single kiss… Silverfin brought his fingertips to his own lips, but the saltwater of the ocean had washed away the last, lingering traces of Flint’s kisses.

He had given that man all he had and more. He had given him his body, his heart, and the greatest treasure in the seven seas. And it had not been enough to secure his love. 

Silverfin ran his hands down the scales of his tail, trying to take comfort in having regained his true form, and he sighed. Gone. It was all gone. Even if he were ever to see James again, he could never touch him the way he had touched him when they had been bipeds together. He had been a fool to try and live as one of them. 

“My honored Lord.” Silverfin was startled from his dreary thoughts by a familiar arrival.

“Lord Scarletclaw?”

“A summons for you, My Lord,” the crab pronounced with his usual flourish.

“What kind of summons? I’m not in the mood for being summoned.”

“From your sister, the Lady Maxilla.”

“If she comes to rub it all in my face again, no thank you,” Silverfin turned his back upon the pestering courtier.

“She did not say anything about rubbing,” the crab scuttled into Silverfin’s way again, lifting a cautionary claw. “But I can tell you, she does not come alone.”

“How did she even get here, anyways? Did Mami Wata give her back her tail?”

“She’s aboard a ship!” the crab announced with glee. "Such a tiny ship. So easy to sink."

"Leave her alone, you insolent shellfish," Silverfin shot back. "The ocean has taken enough from her already!"

"Then I'll tell her you're on your way," the crab replied, smirking as much as a crab could as he scuttled off again. Silverfin sighed, starting after him.

He didn't have far to go. The rocky ocean floor rose up into tiny islands that were death to larger ships, but as the crab approached he could see the bottom of a small longboat floating near the edge of one. Suddenly angry, he swam up underneath it and gave one side a mighty shove.

The longboat, predictably, flipped. But instead of just his fancy-dressed sister, three bodies spilled into the water, and Silverfin found himself looking into the wide-eyed, freckled face of his former lover.

In a panic, he darted back, surfacing. "Max!"

"You fucking arsehole!" Anne Bonny breached the surface, sputtering. She ignored the capsized boat and hauled herself up onto the rocks, grabbing her sodden hat from the waves and plopping it back onto her head.

Frowning, Max shoved at the capsized boat, carefully turning it back over in the water. "That's the last time I try and help you."

"Help me? What were you thinking bringing him here?" Silverfin scooted back more, glaring at Flint through a canopy of wet lashes.

"Him? The man you loved enough to give up the sea for? Heaven forbid."

"Well in case you haven't noticed, he doesn't exactly love me!"

"And that's what you think, do you?"

"Of course that's what I think! I mean - I know! I don't want to see him, I don't want to have anything to do with him, so take your boat and your angry redheads the hell back to Nassau before I -” 

"I'm sorry."

Flint's voice, though uncharacteristically soft, was enough to stop Silverfin's words in his throat. He looked to where Flint was treading water. "... you are?"

"I am. Don't be angry at Max. She's only here because I asked her to help me find you. I..." He stopped, turning in the water with a sigh and starting to kick as gracelessly as a biped would towards the rocks. "I realize I've been a fool, and I'm sorry for the pain I’ve caused you,” he said, pushing himself out of the water, and clambering up on dry surface. “Please forgive me for realizing this too late."

"Too late?" Heart pounding, Silverfin swam after him. "What do you mean too late? Are you ill? Injured? Are you dying?"

Flint gave a soft snort, perching on the edge of a rock, legs dangling in the water. "No. But you've left, haven't you? You're... how you were meant to be."

Silverfin shook his head, tears burning at his eyes. He grabbed the rock on either side of Flint's thighs, pulling himself up out of the water to press a trembling kiss to the pirate’s mouth. Flint gave a soft, desperate noise against his lips, and suddenly his arms were tight around Silverfin, pulling him close, thighs wrapped around his tail.

"Forgive me," he gasped between trembling kisses. "I need you. Come back to me, I'll do anything..."

"All you had to do was ask," Silverfin replied, throat tight and aching with love.

"Well... ain’t this queer," Anne muttered.

Perched next to her, Max gathered her sodden skirts and attempted to wring them out. "I'm afraid my brother isn't always the most pragmatic of Mers," she replied.

Silverfin sank back into the water, nuzzling his face into Flint's thigh. "Hey!"

"Well, it's true! You went off in a huff and undid Mami Wata's spell and now what do you expect to do? Spend the rest of your life in a bathtub in Flint's cabin?"

"If I have to," Silverfin replied with a pronounced pout.

“You ain’t even got your fuck stick no more,” Anne smirked.

"If you think I love him solely for what is - was - between his legs, you're sorely mistaken!" Flint replied with indignation.

Silverfin perked up, eyes shining as he looked up at Flint. "Really?"

Flint nodded sadly, stroking a wet strand of hair back from Silverfin's face. "Of course, little pet. But isn't there anything we can do? I don’t want you to be miserable. I don't want to see you caged in a tub just to be near me. Or worse! Someone could see you and take you from me."

Silverfin sighed, clasping one of Flint's hands in his and nuzzling his fingers. "I don't see what can be done. Mami Wata must be furious with me."

"And quite unlikely to allow you back onto land with that tail," Max pointed out, far too pragmatically. "You are too much of a danger to Merkind. What would men do if they knew we were real?"

“Dissect, maybe eat ya,” Anne offered, chewing calmly on a twig of seaweed. “Though you don’t taste much like fish, do you?” she winked at Max, who blushed visibly. 

"Ew." Silverfin wrinkled his nose. "Who asked for your opinion!"

"For goodness sakes!" Max said, still flushed. "Just go ask Mami Wata what it would take to get your goddamn legs back! If she hasn't killed you by now she's not about to, and the worst she can do is say no!"

“You ask her! She’s likely to turn me into a tadpole at this rate! Or worse - ask for _all_ my hair again!”

"We'll _all_ ask her," Flint said firmly. "Ah... somehow..."

Sighing, Max stood, turning her back to Anne and lifting up her wet hair. "Would you please unlace me?"

"What? What for?" Anne's hands went obediently to the laces of her dress anyway.

"It appears I must go for a dive, and I cannot do that in this dress."

Anne's hands stopped halfway down her back. "No way. You'll drown!"

Max chuckled softly, lifting her hair higher and twisting it up off the back of her neck. "Do not worry about that, ma chère. I have not lost all of the Mer that I once was."

"How the fuck have I never seen those before?"

Flint's eyebrows knit as he pulled Silverfin's hair off his neck to stare at his gills. "What? Did you have those before?"

"Of course I did! How else do you think I rescued you when the _Walrus_ wrecked?"

"You're both daft," Max agreed with a smile, turning and leaning in to press an affectionate kiss to Anne's nose. Then she stepped out of her dress, tossing it into the bottom of the longboat with a sodden plop. "Wait here for me," she said, and jumped off the rocks to dive beneath the waves.

Anne watched her leave, then glanced to Silverfin and snorted, going back to wringing out her clothes. Ordinarily Silverfin would have felt insulted, but he was too happy to have Flint back again to think twice about it. He pressed a kiss to Flint's knuckles, looking up at him. "If we can't be together..."

"We'll find a way," Flint reassured him.

"But if we can't..." Silverfin hesitated. "There's something I want you to have. Will you wait here for me? I won't be a minute."

Flint hesitated, then nodded, stroking his hair with a gentle caress of his fingers. "Just as long as you come back." The look the captain was giving Silverfin, so full of softness and hope, melted the last dark recesses of his amphibian heart.

"Always." Silverfin arched out of the water again as Flint leaned down to kiss him. Then he dove down under the waves, hurrying back to his grotto.

He'd felt a fool when he'd started weaving the pearls. He'd tried to tell himself that he was only doing it to attempt to be rid of his feelings for Flint once and for all, to accept the heartbreak and move on. But he knew in his heart that he'd done it in hopes of this very moment.

He clutched the crown to his chest as he swam back, breaching the surface and making his way to where Flint still perched on the edge of the rocks. "Max says that bipeds - that humans - don't do this," he started, nervousness making his stomach do flips. "But it's very important to us. It means... it means that you are my intended… my everything. And you always will be, no matter what is to happen. So..." He held the crown out with both hands outstretched. "I hope you will wear it for me, even just for a little while?"

Wordlessly Flint leaned forward, bending his head, his russet hair reflecting in a streak of red in the azure waves. Silverfin drew a trembling breath, heart aching with happiness, and carefully tucked the crown into place, noting with satisfaction that it fit around Flint's head perfectly. He pressed a kiss to Flint's forehead and breathed, "You've made me so happy, James."

"I promise I will keep it and treasure it forever," Flint murmured, ignoring the gagging noises coming from Anne's side of the island. He slid off the rock and back into the water to pull Silverfin into a warm kiss. "No matter what happens."

Silverfin closed his eyes with a little happy moan, melting into the warmth of Flint's kisses. But his bliss was interrupted by the sound of a crab clearing his throat.

"My Honored Lord."

Silverfin's arms tightened around Flint's waist. "I'm busy kissing my Pirate King," he growled against Flint's mouth, and felt Flint laugh happily.

"What are you talking about, darling?"

"So you are," Lord Scarletclaw continued, ignoring Flint. "But you are also summoned. Unless you don't care about Mami Wata’s commands anymore?"

Silverfin's heart jumped into his throat. He kept one arm tightly around Flint as he turned to look at Lord Scarletclaw. "I won't leave him."

"Fortunately he is also summoned. You are to meet with Mami Wata and the Lady Maxilla in the Cavern of the Hidden Pearl. Immediately."

Silverfin bit his lip as he looked up at Flint. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course. Ah... where?"

"The Cavern of the Hidden Pearl. Mami Wata is waiting for us."

Anne snorted, picking her way back over the rocks towards the boat. "Oh, sure. Hidden Pearl. Ain't that a brothel in Tortuga? Taking orders from crabs. Woman I’m fucking has goddamn gills. Wait 'til Jack gets a load of today!”

Silverfin rescued one of the longboat oars from the water, bringing it back to the boat as Flint and Anne climbed in. "Follow me," he said, hoping he wasn't leading his lover to both their dooms. Oh, and his sister’s lover too.

~~~

Surely the day couldn't get any stranger, Flint thought as he carefully navigated the longboat through a channel of rocks and into a darkened cavern, following Silver's dark head in the water. The hard part was over, wasn't it? He'd found Silver again, begged his forgiveness. Gotten far more love in return than he deserved. Things had to be easy now, didn't they?

Inside, he found that the cave glowed with a strange green luminescence, glinting off the waves and throwing rippling shadows up onto the walls. Max stood on the rocks along the side, seemingly unconcerned with her own nudity, and Flint tried to avert his eyes as he pulled the longboat up alongside them.

"Come with me," Max said as he climbed out. "Just the two of you. She's waiting for you."

"Dunno if I like that," Anne muttered, and Max smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"Don't worry, there is no danger for you. I'll be back soon. I promise."

Flint looked worriedly down at Silver as he followed Max. His lover gave him a tight smile, diving ahead of them through the water.

Before them, on a throne made of pearlescent giant clams, their maws iridescent and glimmering in the dim light, sat what appeared to be a dark-skinned woman adorned in a crown of seashells and corals. Her heavy breasts were covered in necklaces of bright gold and gleaming gems, and her fingers narrowed into pointed claws that glowed with the same mother of pearl luminescence as the rest of the cavern. All told, Flint had to admit she would have been a beautiful woman, except that where a woman would have had legs, the creature before him appeared to have two long, twirling fishtails, that slithered in the water before her like a pair of angry eels.

Silver stopped in front of her in the water, lowering his head. "Forgive me, Mami Wata. I've been a foolish Mer. I've been careless with the gifts you have given me. Please don't turn me into a tadpole!"

"A tadpole?" Mami Wata threw her head back and laughed. "Such imagination you have, little one. Is this your proud Pirate King? Come here. Let me look at you."

"He's mine," Silver said in a small voice. "I crowned him and everything."

"Of course," Mami Wata agreed. Flint wasn't quite sure how she moved on those tails, except suddenly she was in front of him, one hand on his chin, turning his face this way and that as if assessing his worth. "I suppose he is a fine specimen. For a biped."

Flint tried to decide whether or not he'd just been insulted, and decided wisely not to question it. "Look, uh - your majesty? I am aware there have been some mistakes made, mostly by me. I don't suppose there's some way we can get past that and give Silver back his legs? There must be something that I can do for you? Give to you, perhaps? I have considerable means at my disposal back in Nassau."

"Silver _fin_ ," she started, "has certainly made his share of mistakes, not the least of which was cheating me in the original deal. He reneged on it, in a fit of vanity. The treasure he helped you to secure was sought after by my people. I would have received great tribute from that _Urca_ ship. And then he threw all of it away in a fit of anger."

In the water, Silver's eyes grew more sorrowful. "You can have all of my hair this time, I promise. You can cut it yourself!"

"You foolish little Mer!" Mami Wata laughed as she moved back to her throne. "Do you think I asked for your hair simply because I wanted it? What use do I have for it? I asked for the thing that was dearest to you - your beauty - because I needed to know that you were willing to give it all up for your love! Clearly you were not. Why should I help you again?"

"Let me give something up, then," Flint said desperately. "Anything you ask for. I swear it.” Out of the corner of his eye, Flint saw Max shaking her head in warning. But he wouldn’t be cowed by these Merpeople and their games. “I can't lose him again. I beseech you!"

"Anything?" Mami Wata raised one eyebrow. "Be careful what you offer, Biped. What would you do if I asked for your ship?"

"The part I possess of it would be yours in an instant."

"And what if I asked for your legs, in return for Silverfin's?"

Flint ignored Silver's horrified gasp. "Then I'd spend the rest of my days on crutches!"

"Crutches!" Mami Wata threw her head back again in laughter. "You entertain me, Biped! I think I will give you what you ask for. And the price for it will be but a trifle. Give me your share of the _Urca_ ’s treasure, and Silverfin's, to replace the tribute I would have received if my people had taken it. Then I will give Silverfin both his legs and my blessing."

For a moment Flint hesitated. The treasure was essential to protecting Nassau from the British, essential to his revenge. How could he give it up when they'd worked so hard for it?

But how could he live without Silver?

"Then we have an accord," he said, bowing low. "I'll bring the treasure to wherever you like. Just name it."

"Just throw it overboard," Mami Wata replied with a smile, leaning back on her throne. She made an idle motion towards Silver, and for a moment the light was so bright that Flint could barely see. Then Silver was climbing up onto the rocks, jumping into his arms and wrapping both legs around his waist, trembling with joy as he kissed him.

Flint caught him, holding him tight. "I promise I'll do right by you this time," he whispered, heart brimming with happiness.

“I know you will,” Silver exhaled against his neck, sending shivers down his spine."Now let's go home."

~~~

Max shook her head in disbelief as she watched her idiot brother and his insane fuck husband start back towards the longboat. How on earth had those two managed to get out of this predicament? Ah well. Better that they triumph than her having to deal with the fallout of failure. She turned to follow, only to feel Mami Wata's hand close around her wrist.

"And what will you do, my wayward daughter?"

Max looked back to her, confused. "Me?"

"Yes. Will you return to the sea with us, now that your bargain has been fulfilled?"

For a long moment Max could only stare at her. Mami's original words echoed in her memory. _A slave you shall be, my daughter, until you are loved with a true love._ "But I'm not..."

Then she looked back towards the boat. Anne sat in the bow watching her, eyes bright with worry, fingers white as she clenched the edge of the boat. And behind the worry was the thing that Max had tried so hard to tell herself was not there, the thing that could not possibly exist. The thing that she could never allow herself to hope for.

_Love._

She drew a shivering breath, tears burning her eyes as the beautiful realization washed over her. Then she turned to Mami Wata, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek.

"I will stay with the one who loves me," she whispered. "Thank you, Mami Wata."

Then she turned for the boat, where her heart waited for her.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there will be a sexpilogue. I mean, one more chapter. Stay tuned!


	18. Bedtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _actual_ happy ending.

_Now we can walk, now we can run_  
_Now we can stay all day in the sun_  
_Just you and me and I can be part of your world_  
\- Little Mermaid

 

~~~

 

“We’re going to be so happy,” Silver pressed his cheek against Flint’s and hummed with contentment. “Destitute, but happy.” Beneath the hull of the _Walrus_ , the coffer laden with Spanish gold sank into the realm of Mami Wata. 

"Are you certain we couldn't have kept any of it? Even a little bit?" Flint looked down into the waves sadly.

"Do you want a shark to bite off your leg? Or WORSE?"

Flint sighed, then turned to kiss Silver. "There will be other treasure," he said, holding him close. "Right now the only treasure that matters is the one in my arms."

"The two of you are truly disgusting." Flint lifted his head to find Max descending the steps down onto the lower deck, shaking her head. Her hair, now dry, hung in perfect beautiful ringlets around her face again - much like Silver's. How had he not known they were related? Come to think of it, how had he not seen _gills_?

"I don't care," Silver responded, arms tightening around Flint's waist. "I'm happy. And I was right. Love exists."

"Perhaps you were," Max said agreeably, a little smile playing about the corners of her mouth. "But the question now is - will you continue to be pirates and chase treasure? Or treasure your love in a safer life?"

Flint opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. There were a hundred reasons to stay with the _Walrus_ (even if he would essentially have to recruit a whole new crew, his old crew having retired on the _Urca_ ’s riches). He needed to defend Nassau, for Thomas's sake. He needed the British to realize the mistake they had made. But to what end? Would vengence truly right the wrong that had been done? And even if it could, was it worth the risk of losing Silver?

Max laid a hand on his arm. "Think on it, Captain. If you should decide to take my brother and the Lady Barlow to a better life, well... it just so happens that a much larger portion of the _Urca_ gold ended up in the hands of Jack Rackham than he led you to believe, and consequently in my hands."

“That bloody wanker!”

Max laughed. "Say what you will, but there is more than enough to take us all away from this life. If you wish it. Think on it, both of you. You know where to find me."

"Max! Leave those fucking lovebirds be and get down here!"

Max leaned out over the rail to smile down at Anne. "Coming!" She called, then grabbed hold of the rope, sliding down and into the waiting longboat with ease and grace.

"Let's go back to the brothel," Flint heard her purring from the boat. "I would very much like you to tear all my clothes off."

He glanced down to find Silver smiling up at him, arching one eyebrow in invitation.

Tearing clothes off sounded like a very good idea indeed.

“So, um…” Suddenly feeling oddly shy, Flint drew his thumb gently over the cut of Silver’s jaw. “Now that I’m yours, because you’ve crowned me… Care to make it official? In the time-honored human tradition?”

“Just so we’re clear,” Silver leaned into the touch, “you’re talking about sex, yes?”

“I am,” Flint murmured against his earlobe.

“Then yes, I’d very much care to.” His eyes shone as Flint drew him in for a kiss, then drew him back into his cabin, an ocean of blue that Flint would happily drown in again and again.

At the thought of drowning, Flint’s fingers trembled again as he held Silver close. “You’ve already given me so much, my love,” he whispered with reverence. “You’ve saved my life twice, and made each new day worth living. And I… I have nothing to give you in return. I am nothing!”

“Stop!” Sliver’s hand clasped across Flint’s lips. “Don’t ever say that again. You are so much and everything I desire.”

Flint gasped for air as those words washed over him like a cold wave. _You are so much and everything I desire._ He remembered those words, spoken softly to him on a night when all he craved was the cold embrace of a watery grave, the nihil of death and oblivion. Happiness had been so close, at his fingertips, the entire time, and he was too willfully blind to see it.

“Silverfin,” Flint whispered, like a prayer. John’s true name. It fit him like a fine kid leather glove. Flint smiled and pressed his mouth to the salt-crusted curls that haloed around his beloved’s head, dark locks framing his tanned face. “My love,” he exhaled, holding on with arms that would never let go now that he had what he had sought.

Suddenly, unbalanced and unmoored, Flint lost his footing and was tumbled over to his bed, Silver sitting astride his hips and smiling down at him like the cat who got the cream.

“We never did get to do this when I had all my legs,” Silver declared, tossing his long hair back, curls tumbling over his shoulders. He grinned as he wiggled his hips, a delightful rush of sensation against Flint's constrained cock.

It was easy to imagine what it would be like to have Silver like this, riding his cock with passionate exuberance. Flint ran his hands up Silver's thighs, fingers digging into his hips as he pulled him closer, craving more.

And yet...

 _You are my intended,_ Silver had murmured, all the love in the world in his bright eyes. _My everything._ Such simple, fervent words from the lips Flint had kissed so many times. But the truth of them had cut to his core, left him laid open and bare to love in a way that he hadn't felt since...

He tangled his fingers in the front of Silver's shirt, yanking him down to claim a kiss, hard and trembling. Had Silver felt like this, when he'd left behind his entire world for him? The part of Flint that had felt untethered since his flight from England longed to meld with Silver completely, whisper platitudes, beg him to swear his love eternal. But Silver had done all that, and more. So why did he still ache so?

"I need you," he whispered urgently, tugging at Silver's trousers.

Silver laughed softly, joyfully, rolling to one side to kick them off and start to work on Flint's, his words fluttery, sweet kisses. "And you shall have me. As often as you like, however you like. I'll ride you hard on these new legs you've bought me until we're both spent, and then I'll do it again and again..."

Flint's cock was certainly on board with that idea. He told the rest of him to follow, kicking off the last of his clothes and pulling the offending garments from Silver's body. It seemed as though his skin was even more perfect, soft and inviting over taut muscles, his whole body warm and tantalizing against Flint's as Silver drew him close. One of his legs wrapped over Flint's hip, pulling him in, deeper into a sea he would gladly tumble into again and again.

It would be so easy to be one with him, to pull Silver on top of him, down onto his cock. Even easier to push Silver back into the softness of his bed as he had so many times before. And yet...

"Do something for me," he breathed, closing his eyes as if it could shut out the rawness that welled up inside him.

"Anything." Silver's lips found his earlobe, sucking gently. "My beloved..."

"I..." Flint's words stuck in his throat. "I need you."

Sliver's fingers curled in his hair, tugging slightly, pulling Flint's mouth back to his. "You have every part of me."

"I know. I know. But I... I need..."

Silver gave a soft, concerned hum. "You need?"

Wordlessly, Flint pulled Silver on top of himself, sighing at the reassuring solidity of Silver's weight pinning him to the bed. He wrapped one leg up over Silver's hip, giving a deliberate thrust up against him, feeling his body shiver with longing. "This," he whispered, eyes closed, forcing the words from his lips. "Like this. Take me and make me forget that we were ever parted. Make me whole again, love, please..."

Silver pulled back so suddenly that for a brief moment of panic Flint thought he'd asked too much. But his beloved looked down on him only in astonishment, eyes wide. "Take you? Like you do to me, take you? Is that even a thing?"

Flint felt his face burn. "Forget I asked," he muttered, trying to figure out how to shrug it off even as his heart throbbed painfully.

Then Silver's lips were back on his, harder, hungrier, groping for the small stoppered bottle of oil where Flint had secured it down the side of the mattress. He was agreeing, Flint realized, feeling at once elated and even more vulnerable. He turned onto his stomach before he could give free reign to even more thoughts, and was rewarded by Silver's mouth on the back of his neck, sucking hungrily down his spine.

"Your freckles are like a map," Silver breathed, drawing the flat of his tongue over the small of Flint’s back. “I’m going to follow it to hidden treasure.” Slick fingers slid down the crease of his ass, teasing and stroking until Flint felt like he might go mad from the promise unfulfilled, squirming under him.

"God, just - Jesus, please..." It was hard to catch his breath, the tease of Silver's fingers promising so much more, and when two finally pressed inside him he arched back eagerly.

Silver gave a little disapproving hum, free hand on the small of his back, pushing him down into the mattress. "So impatient, my beautiful Pirate King," he murmured, making no attempt to hurry the slow pump of his fingers. "I'll give you everything you ask for... but this body was made to be worshipped properly....."

Part of Flint wanted to argue, to rail and fight off his hold. But this is what he'd asked for, wasn't it? What he needed, to feel like he could give in to Silver's control. To give back all the devotion Silver had given him. He cried out breathlessly as Silver's fingers crooked, teasing a spike of pleasure through him.

"Please," he gasped again, shuddering, feeling drenched with sweat. "John, please.... God, please fuck me already - !"

Silver's breath was a helpless groan. Then he was astride Flint's hips again, but this time the hard length of his cock pressed slick between Flint’s ass cheeks, rubbing against him. _Long John indeed_ , Flint thought.

“Fuck,” Flint muttered, unable to contain himself. “Mami Wata is generous with her gifts!”

Silver chuckled, low and promising. "All the better to spawn with you, my love."

Flint's thoughts stuttered to a stop. ".... what? You... that's.... Spawn?"

"Mmhmm." Silver leaned down, breath hot on the back of his neck. He nibbled up to his earlobe, hips rolling against his ass. "Did you think that was only for Lady-Mers?"

"I - " Flint stuttered. Surely he couldn't seriously mean - 

Then Silver collapsed into peals of laughter. "I'm joking! Oh love, don't worry." He nestled up against Flint's back until he could press a warm kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I am all man and all yours."

Then, before Flint could question what the hell he'd been on about, Silver shifted, the blunt head of his cock pressing against him. It had been far too long, Flint realized, and forced himself to exhale, willing his body to relax and accept him. He bit his lip on a groan as his body finally stretched to accommodate Silver, the intensity of being filled overwhelming despite his lover's gentle rocking. But it felt good, to give in, to think about nothing but the drag of Silver's cock against his nerves, pleasure flaring sharp and bright as Silver's hips stuttered against him.

"Now I understand," Silver breathed. He gave a little helpless groan as he pushed deeper, the girth of his cock thick and intense and perfect. His breath hitched as his lips brushed over Flint's spine. "Oh gods, James... gods, you're perfect, so perfect..."

With anyone else, Flint would have questioned the hyperbole, but Silver had said such things quite consistently. And in any case, it was hard to argue with Silver's cock inside him, grinding into him in slow, deep thrusts as Silver gasped against his skin. He'd almost forgotten how good this could be, and it felt a little like he'd earned it - his prize for enduring, for opening himself up to love again.

He braced himself against the bed, trying to rock back onto his cock, craving more. "Fuck, harder, please - "

Silver's hips jerked up into him in response, a helpless cry on his lips. It was good, better, but not nearly enough. Flint bit his lip, grinding his ass back against him, then pushed himself up to his knees. "Off."

"What?"

"I'm on top," Flint said quickly, before Silver could think he wanted anything other than his cock. "I'm going to take exactly what I want."

"Spoken like a true pirate." Silver grinned, flopping down onto the mattress, then folding his arms behind his head. "Like this, Captain?"

"Yes. Good." Flint grunted, deciding to ignore that aggravatingly appealing smirk in favor of Silver's dick for the time being, bracing his hands on Silver’s shoulders. He sighed in relief as he rocked down onto his cock again, the longed-for sensation of being filled washing through him. Then he began to move, remembering how to roll his hips just right, the girth of Silver's cock brushing against the hot point inside him that sent a rush of pleasure through him, over and over.

"Gods, you're so beautiful," Silver breathed again, restless hands stroking over his thighs, fingers digging into his hips. " _Gods_ , James..."

Flint glanced down to flash him a smile. Then he started to move harder, welcoming the intensity, encouraging it, bucking down onto Silver’s cock again and again. This was what he'd been missing, he knew that now. Knowing that he could have this, that he could trust Silver with his need and vulnerability. Trusting himself enough to do so.

His breath grew ragged as he set a hard pace, hips snapping down with loud slaps onto Silver’s thighs. He leaned down to kiss Silver breathlessly, tangling his fingers in his hair. "Mine," he gasped, kissing Silver again before he could reply. "Everything - your lips, your body... this gorgeous thick cock, fuck... and god, your seed, all of it - everything - "

"Oh - !" Silver jerked up into him, urgent and hard, crying out in pleasure as if Flint's words had commanded his climax, filling Flint with a surge of sudden warmth. It was the last thing Flint needed, and he let himself go, let the pleasure crash over him, overwhelm every thought and sensation. _Perfect_ , was his last coherent thought, thighs trembling as he pushed Silver's cock in to the hilt, shuddering around him and painting his chest in thick spurts.

Eventually he became aware of the slow, lazy tease of Silver's fingers in his hair, wordlessly stroking and combing through the strands, over and over. Flint shifted enough to press a kiss to the corner of his beloved’s jaw, voice rough and thick and sated in the aftermath of sex. "Mine."

"Yes, I think you've thoroughly established that," Silver replied, sounding rather dazed.

“Mmm, don’t you forget it,” Flint breathed into the swell of Silver’s collarbones. “Besides,” he giggled softly, drawing his fingers through the mess of his spend that covered Silver’s chest and part of his neck. “You may have given me a pearl crown, but I have just given you a pearl necklace.”

~~~

Outside the captain’s cabin, Hal Gates shook his head at all the sounds of slapping and giggling that had been going non-stop for close to two hours. 

“Thank god I’m retiring, Billy,” he muttered. “This is what life at sea does to you. Eventually - you end up fucking a fish!”

~~~

And they Fucked Happily Ever After. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you have it! Signed, sealed, and delivered!  
> I'm sure you've all caught on a long time ago, but all our chapter titles are taken from the _Little Mermaid_ soundtrack, albeit not in the right order.  
>  Thank you all for your amazing support while we wrote this!  
> Thanks to Elle for making [really](http://jadedbirch.tumblr.com/post/149328448565/ellelan-mer-linguistics-for-silverfin-by) [fucking](http://jadedbirch.tumblr.com/post/147151929190/ellelan-at-times-those-lovely-eyes-that) [cool](http://jadedbirch.tumblr.com/post/147142995815/ellelan-silverfin-by-eldiablitosf-and-zoi) edits based on this!  
> Like, if you're an artist, and feel like playing in this verse, we would love you even more probably (if that's at all possible).

**Author's Note:**

> You guys have been amazing! Your comments and cheerleading mean the world to us! <3333 Please also feel free to visit us on Tumblr. El is [jadedbirch](http://jadedbirch.tumblr.com/) and Zoi is [zoinomiko](http://zoinomiko.tumblr.com/).
> 
> We'd also like to thank [Anette](http://favouritealias.tumblr.com/) for _post facto_ beta of this hot mess! It actually reads like slightly less drunk people wrote it now. XD


End file.
